


Blood Sugar Sex Magik

by GutterBall



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Chuck Lives, Cracky Smut, Introspection, M/M, Otherwise Canon, Post-Pitfall, all the snark, bad language, sex pollen - of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt's working on a little project for Hannibal Chau, but Max runs off with it and the game's afoot. Chuck and Raleigh get stuck with the fallout, at which point things... get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I type the word "sexcretions" as a tumblr tag, then think, "Huh. I bet Newt could do something with that". Those aren't words that should ever be strung together in that order. Bad things happen.
> 
> And I didn't even know "sex pollen" fics were a thing until I went to type "sex potion" as a tag and boom. There it was. I'm... a little afraid to find out what I might have tagged this one. Yikes! Enjoy?
> 
> Title from that Chili Peppers album. You know the one.

"Sex bomb, sex bomb! You're my sex bomb!"

Dr. Newton Geiszler didn't have a _bad_ singing voice, per se. He just sang like he did everything else -- in a manic, high register that made it sound like a full-size LP playing at 45 rpm. He bopped into the lab with one of Tendo's bagels propped on top of his coffee cup, then paused just inside the door and frowned.

"Hermann?"

Though the stodgy git wasn't visible, Dr. Gottlieb's perpetual annoyance was apparent in his tone as he hollered back from the next room. "What now, Newton?"

"Where's my sex bomb?"

There was a lengthy pause, followed by the uneven thump-tap of Hermann's limp and cane. Then, the good doctor appeared at the opposite door, looking more confused than annoyed for perhaps the first time in their acquaintance.

"Is that some sort of euphamism?"

Any other time, Newt would have cracked out a witty rejoinder, but right now, he was too busy staring at the vacant spot on his otherwise cluttered lab table where his latest project had been when he left to grab a coffee.

"Um, no. Where is it? It was here not ten minutes ago."

Hermann's eyebrows met below the frown settling into his forehead. "A sex bomb."

"Yes. I left it on my table here, and now it's gone." A hint of panic set in at Gottlieb's continued expression. "I... Hermann, this is kind of important, so if you know anything...?"

Closing his eyes, the other doctor sighed heavily. "Newton, I don't even want to know. All I can say is that I've been in the other room since lunch and have heard no one but you come in. If you're missing something, you must have misplaced it yourself."

"But I didn't!" His gesticulation caused coffee to slop into his bagel and onto his hand, but he only noticed because it was still hot enough to hurt. "It was right there!"

Again, Gottlieb sighed. "A sex bomb."

Groaning and smacking the unburned hand to his forehead, Newt felt a headache settle into his temples. "This... can't be good."

 

\--

 

"Dammit, Ray, this is all your fault."

Raleigh Becket let out a long-suffering sigh. The list of things Chuck Hansen thought were his fault usually grew daily. Today, it had grown hourly.

"How is it _my_ fault you can't find _your_ dog?"

Fuming, Chuck flicked him in the chest, obviously well aware of what a shit move it was and, equally obviously, not caring. "Don't act like you haven't been slipping him scraps in the mess hall. You've been poaching my dog, and now he's taken to following you about. So where is he?"

"I'm not poaching your dog."

Chuck's face flushed with irritation as he stormed in close. "Where. Is. Max?"

Not backing down an inch, Raleigh gritted his teeth in hopes of remaining impassive. Even after saving the world together, they couldn't quite find their groove as fellow rangers, and Raleigh, for one, was sick and tired of the constant attitude.

But, instead of snarking back -- or punching, as he sometimes still ached to do -- he took a deep breath and centered himself. "I don't know. I only fed him some bacon that one time. I haven't fed him since because you said you didn't want him getting fat and dying on you. _If_ he follows me around -- and I don't think he does -- it's not because I'm poaching him. All right?"

Chuck's left eye twitched, and Raleigh suddenly realized that, yes, the jerk was pissed, but the jerk was also... concerned. Worried, even. Maybe even a little scared.

Over his dog.

Dammit. It just wasn't possible to hate someone who loved a dog that much.

Sighing, Raleigh took a grudging step back out of pissing contest range and put up his hands. "Do you want me to help look for him?"

Chuck scowled, but even under the bluster, Raleigh could see that slight fear, and it reminded him of just how young the jerk really was. Not even twenty-two yet, though it now seemed likely he'd actually live to see that next birthday.

Then, the brat caught Raleigh's softened expression and stiffened. "If he isn't after you, what the hell good are you?"

He heaved another long-suffering sigh. "Considering people don't about-face and try to disappear when I walk down the hallway in a pissy mood, I think I can be pretty damn helpful, Hansen. Take it or leave it." Under his breath, he couldn't help but finish his thought. "Not like I don't have better things to do than babysit you."

Whether Chuck heard that last bit or not, he grudgingly grunted something resembling acceptance and jerked his head in a "follow me, asshole" gesture. And because Raleigh clearly lacked the sense to mind his own business where Chuck Hansen was concerned, he obeyed.

But not without shoveling a little back.

"Besides, Max likes me better."

Totally worth Chuck shoulder-checking him into the wall.

 

\--

 

Marshal Hercules Hansen pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and sighed heavily. He'd never once envied Stacker Pentecost's position and had never once wanted to take over in his stead. Unfortunately, Stacker's noble sacrifice had left Herc in the Big Seat, and now he had to deal with days like these.

"A sex bomb."

Dr. Geiszler fidgeted in his seat, ramped up to full-on chihuahua. "A concentrated dose of a highly specialized serum combining the inhibitive neurological effects of a neurotoxin with the aphrodisiac qualities of certain... ahem... kaiju excretions, all situated in an aerosol release canister for maximum dispersal."

Herc shifted from pinching between his eyes to rubbing his right temple, eyes still closed. "And why, exactly, would you be experimenting with something like that?"

The hyper little scientist twitched. "I... came into possession of some highly sought-after kaiju glands... and was asked if I could engineer some sort of populace-destabilizing biological weaponry from them."

Stilling, Herc felt everything inside him go cold. "Asked by whom?"

Newt's chair squawked with the force of his squirming. "I'd rather not say."

"Asked. By. Whom."

"...Hannibal Chau?"

An incredulous laugh coughed out of him, and he opened his eyes to stare at the impossible fruitloop Stacker had left in charge of kaiju R&D. "You're making biological weapons for Hannibal Chau? In my fucking labs?"

"He gave me the parts for free! And he only wants ten percent of the finished product. He knows it'll sell like fresh food on the black market and should make the PPDC enough money to tell the UN to stuff it."

Dammit. That actually made sense, and even Herc had to admit that Chau had done the PPDC right, even after Pentecost's death should have canceled the deal between them. Sure, Chau would make a tidy fortune off of selling even such a small percentage on his own black market, but the legitimate arms market would pay an even bigger fortune for the rest.

And with the UN all in a tizzy to take back control of the program they'd eighty-sixed less than a year ago....

"Fine, whatever. But how did you manage to lose the prototype?"

This caused a new chihuahua flurry. "I didn't lose it! It was on my table when I went to get a cup of coffee. Hermann swears no one came in, but someone _had_ to. Something like that doesn't just get up and walk away on its own."

Herc eyed him. "You sure about that?"

To his credit, Newt actually considered this. "Pretty sure, yeah."

Heaving another sigh, he slumped back into the Big Seat, idly cursing Stacker Pentecost for up and nobly sacrificing himself and leaving this mess in Herc's lap. "So who else knows what you were working on?"

"No one." Emphatic. No room for doubt. "Chau didn't tell any of his own people, and I didn't even tell you or Hermann. This was strictly between me and Chau."

He frowned. "Then how would anyone know to steal it?"

The mad scientist shrugged. "Maybe they didn't know what they were stealing."

Herc scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly tired. "This... could be very bad, Dr. Geiszler."

Slumping, Newt sighed. "That's pretty much what I said."

 

\--

 

"There you are, you bastard!"

Despite Chuck's harsh tone, the dog let out a muffled bark and trotted over happily enough. Raleigh couldn't hide his grin when the so-called arrogant asshole brawler went to his knees to give his dog a thorough and relieved scrubbing behind the ears.

"Where the hell have you been? I was-- _Ray_ was worried sick about you, ya little shithead." But the ear-scruffing didn't stop, and Max groaned with appreciation. "What's that you got there, mate?"

It took some doing, but Chuck finally managed to wiggle the metal can out of Max's determined mouth grip. Raleigh stepped closer, smirking at the jerk's grimace at the sheer amount of drool coating the canister.

"Catch."

And now it was Raleigh's turn to grimace at the drool both on his hands and on his sweater. "Nice, Chuck. Real nice."

The brat only smirked and went back to babying his bulldog.

Curious despite the disgust factor, he turned the can over in his hands, looking for a label. There were a few teeth marks and scrapes on the otherwise smooth metal, but it seemed basically intact. Another turn, and he came face to face with a small digital display.

"Uh... Chuck?"

"Yeah, mate?"

Ten. Nine. Eight.

"You might wanna run."

Chuck glanced up. "Do what now?"

Five. Four.

"Run!"

Unable to think what else to do with what was apparently some sort of grenade in his hands, Raleigh spun for the nearest doorway, tossed the canister inside, then turned back and fairly tackled Chuck to the ground, flattening himself over the jerk and covering his own head. Max let out a surprised bark and took off down the hall.

"Ray, what the fu--"

_PFFT-ssssssSSSSSS!!_

A billow of... smoke?... puffed out of the room and into the hall. It wasn't the explosion Raleigh had feared, but it might be worse. Some sort of chemical weapon, maybe?

"Chuck, we gotta seal off this section."

Thankfully, the arrogant jerk finally seemed to realize what was happening and shoved Raleigh off of him to lurch to his feet. Three strides put him at the emergency cutoff for the hallway, and suddenly, the whole hall echoed with the slow woop-woop of the danger siren and strobing red warning lights.

The blast doors came down with a clang of finality. The blue-tinged cloud of God-knows-what poured out from the open room and filled the sealed-off hallway. Raleigh's eyes stung and watered, his chest hitching on a cough. It took Chuck a little longer to feel the effects, but soon enough, he was coughing, too.

Then... he felt... better. The cloud didn't dissipate, exactly, but it did float up to waft in slow, deep eddies around the ceiling, cloud-like and billowy. As long as they stayed below it, the sting wasn't bad. They'd just have to squat for a while. Or sit down if their knees got tired.

"The fuck just happened, Ray?"

He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to pay close attention to how he felt. "Pretty sure your dog just accidentally armed and set off a chemical weapon."

Chuck paled, and Raleigh was again reminded that the kid was barely legal to buy a beer in the States. Of course, they were currently in Hong Kong, where Raleigh thought the legal drinking age was a bit lower, but the point remained. This kid had survived the apocalypse, but they might both die right here in the Shatterdome because his dog had gotten into shenanigans.

Swallowing hard, Chuck tried not to look ready to shit his pants. "Any idea what--"

"No clue. It doesn't really smell chemical-ish." Admittedly, he'd been trying _not_ to inhale too much of it. "And I don't feel... bad." A catch in his throat made him hesitate before adding, "Yet."

Fidgeting in his squat against the wall by the emergency cutoff button, the kid clenched his jaw. "Dad'll be here any minute. Maybe he'll know."

"I hope so."

A trickle of sweat ran down his cheek from his hairline. He didn't feel particularly hot, but... he sort of did. Was it starting already? Or was he just as close to shitting his pants as Chuck was?

"Hey, Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitated, then decided that keeping their symptoms from each other wouldn't do a damn bit of good.

Fuck it.

"Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?"

 

\--

 

Herc was well into ignoring Geizsler's science babble about why a sex bomb was as harmless and humanitarian a population destabilizer as a biological weapon could possibly be when a loud, blaring siren went off. He jerked his attention to the display, where a small section of Shatterdome hallway flashed red in time with the alarm's pulses. Someone had sealed off a section.

What a coincidence.

Giving Geiszler the stink eye, Herc grunted. "I assume this doesn't bode well."

Squirming in his seat again, the little bastard shrugged. "Maybe it's a drill?"

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Come with me, Dr. Geiszler. I have a feeling you'll be needed."

Thankfully, Call-Me-Newt followed without protest.

 

\--

 

"Hey, Ray?"

Raleigh's mouth felt tingly. He'd been trying to ignore the sensation, casting his mind over vague memories of his training in hopes of remembering that tingly mouth parts were a result of nervous stress instead of a potential side effect of being exposed to a chemical weapon.

"Yeah?" Talking made his lips feel all... thrummy. What the hell?

"Did you just try to save my life?"

He blinked, shaking off his distraction to give Chuck a wide-eyed stare. "Do what now?"

Chuck frowned, but didn't scowl. There really was a difference, and Raleigh had become fairly adept these past weeks at gauging Hansen, Jr.'s, relative level of pissed-off by the intensity of his negative expressions. The current setting seemed more pensive than actually irritated.

"You thought that was a grenade of some sort, yeah? And you threw yourself on top of me to protect me from it."

Wary, Raleigh frowned a little himself. "...Yeah?"

"I just...." The brat shifted, apparently already feeling the ache in his knees from squatting. "Thank you."

His eyebrows shot up. A thank you? From Chuck "I'm totally counting all three Pitfall kaiju in my kill count" Hansen?

But said Hansen's expression darkened at his silence, so he shook off his shock and tried to respond properly. "I... you're welcome, Chuck." But he had to be honest because... well, he just had to. "But it was just instinct, ya know? Ranger training. You'd have done the same for me."

The darkening expression receded back to the mild frown, and the brat gave a neutral grunt. Raleigh sighed, relieved. Compliments from Chuck Hansen were rare and beautiful things, but one had to be careful how one received them.

Chuck sometimes giveth, but Chuck also had no problem taketh-ing away. With a vengeance.

"Is it weird that I could... kinda... kiss you for it?"

Raleigh's knees chose that moment to give out, and he thunked back against the wall, sprawling gracelessly on his ass. He expected either mocking laughter or a snarky comment or both.

Instead, when he righted himself, he realized Chuck was simply staring at him, his face carefully neutral, which was even more rare than a Chuck Hansen compliment.

"Because I'm not kidding. I kinda wanna kiss you for it."

Maybe Chuck's mouth was feeling tingly, too. Maybe Raleigh should ask. Maybe it was a symptom of whatever funk they were sitting under and likely coated in right now.

Instead, he felt his lips thrum again and his whole body flush with warmth.

Reasoning that turning down a Chuck Hansen kiss was probably a worse idea than failing to properly acknowledge a Chuck Hansen compliment, Raleigh found himself shrugging jerkily.

"Okay."

The carefully neutral expression cracked around the edges as the brat widened his eyes. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Almost as wary as Raleigh had been moments before, Chuck shifted to his knees and scuttled slowly closer. Raleigh sat up, debated getting to his knees, then wasn't sure what image that projected and decided to stay seated. If nothing else, having a height advantage would probably make Chuck less confrontational, which would probably help this whole bizarre encounter end better for all concerned.

Close enough to reach out, the kid hesitated, then scooted closer still until he actually knelt between Raleigh's legs. The warmth that had flared through him at the thought of a kiss returned with a vengeance, heating his face and sending another trickle of sweat down from his hairline. Chuck's bright eyes followed the droplet's progress over cheek and down neck until it seeped into his sweater's collar.

Somehow, that avid attention only heated Raleigh's confused senses further.

Then, Chuck lowered his head, closed his eyes, and kissed him.

The tingling in his lips settled into a deep, abiding hum, and he fought the urge to moan with relief. The contact was... not electric, not frantic like that, but... comforting? Almost _soothing_. It turned the distracting tingling into something softer and infinitely more bearable.

"Oh, that's better."

Did he say that out loud? He must have, because Chuck hummed some sort of agreement and kissed him again, less hesitantly this time, and oh, it was definitely better.

Warm breath sighed over his face. "God, Ray, you taste so damn sweet."

Another press of lips proved that Chuck didn't taste too bad himself, and Raleigh caught himself thinking that his first guy kiss was going better than he'd ever imagined. And yeah, he'd thought about it, but between being knee deep in women from his glory days of jaeger pilot fame and his five-year dry spell spent mourning his brother and wishing he'd died himself, he'd never really gotten around to trying it out.

Until now. Until Chuck.

Had Chuck ever...?

But that was a question his lips were already too busy kissing to ask. Besides, it hardly mattered. It was just a kiss. A little gratitude between... well, not friends, but comrades in ar-- _was that freaking tongue??_

The moan he'd repressed earlier purred out of his throat because, yes, Chuck Hansen had just slipped him the tongue. Not, like, shoving it down his throat, like Raleigh had somehow expected someone as forceful as Chuck to do, but just slightly more than a flick. An offer.

Offer received.

Tilting his head, Raleigh opened up and let his Australian nemesis kiss however he wanted. And apparently, what said nemesis wanted was to lazily lap at Raleigh's tongue, occasionally nip at his lower lip, and just generally subject him to the most thorough and comfortable kiss of his entire life.

Nothing with Chuck had ever been comfortable.

The thought broke through the haze of sweet bliss that had settled over him as their increased and increasingly damp body heat brought the shifting cloud of God-knows-what down from the ceiling to fog around them. Not one single moment of his relatively brief barely-more-than-acquaintanceship with Chuck Hansen had been sweet or comfortable.

This wasn't natural, no matter how natural it felt. This was pretty obviously the result of whatever had been in that canister.

"Chuck--"

But oh, those kisses felt nice, tasted surprisingly sweet from such a sharp mouth.

_No. Focus._

"Chuck, this isn't--"

Gentle but firm hands cupped his face, and those kisses deepened. There was still no real urgency, but Chuck was definitely telling him without words that words weren't needed. Most of Raleigh had already begun to agree, so he clung desperately to the rest.

But it was hard to resist the comfortingly insistent pressure that soon had him on his back with Chuck's pleasant solidity pressing into him. And it was harder still to think of the kid as a kid when Raleigh muzzily realized the arrogant brat was more broad at the shoulders and had a good thirty or so pounds of pure muscle on him. And it felt... good. No, it felt _perfect_.

Long fingers threaded back into his hair, and he knew he should be saying something, but it was hard to remember anything that wasn't so damn honey-slow and sweet as the taste of Chuck's lips and tongue, the feel of that objectively bigger body weighing him down to the floor. His thoughts felt like thick syrup running through his fingers as he tried to catch them.

Probably not important.

Definitely not as important as tasting more of Chuck's skin. That mouth was sweet, yes, but there was so much more to be tasted.

Chuck seemed to have the same thought and moved to his jaw, his chin, his throat. The fingers in his hair tilted him this way and that, and Raleigh sighed, content, as Chuck nipped and licked and kissed at his neck and jaw and face. Slow and easy. All the time in the world. Time had become as syrupy thick as his thoughts.

The only thing he managed to think through completely was a vague wondering about why he'd waited so long for this. Or why Chuck had.

Whatever. Probably not important.

 

\--

 

Herc took one look through the airlocked window, then drew back with his face nearly on fire and a curse stuck in his throat. And an eternal gratitude that he'd sent security and any lookie-loos on their way before anyone else knew what was happening.

Unfortunately, he couldn't unsee what he'd seen in that short look. He'd never unsee his son, shirtless, draped over an equally shirtless and flushed-pink Raleigh Becket, their mouths alternately tasting bare skin or locking together in a slow writhe in a haze of blue-tinged wispy fog, their limbs entangled.

A fucking sex bomb.

_"Geiszler!"_

Call-Me-Newt cringed closer. "Someone set it off?"

" _Chuck_ and _Raleigh_ set it off, and they're... they're...." Blushing furiously, he flapped a hand back at the window, then scowled and moved in front of it when the little bastard moved to look. "They're damn near having sex in there!"

To his fury, Geiszler only shrugged. "That's kinda what it does."

_"My son!"_

"Oh, right." The fidgeting came back, but not as badly as before. The usually hyper little doctor couldn't seem to work up a respectable level of panic all of a sudden. "Well, the good news is it won't hurt them, really. They might get a little dehydrated from being... er... distracted, but otherwise--"

"Dr. Geiszler, they can't have sex in there!"

Again, the little bastard failed to look horrified. "Why not?"

Blinking as his mind drained of logical sentences in his fluster, Herc could only stare. What the hell kind of question was "why not"? _Because_ , dammit!

Another shrug. "Honestly, it'd probably do Chuck some good. Might pull that stick out of his--"

" _My son_ , asshole! You have to stop this!"

Still no panic. "The effects should only last a couple of hours if we can get the gas vented out properly. After that, no harm done."

Appalled, Herc again tried to make words happen. "No harm... _Newt!_ Those two blokes will never forgive us... forgive _you!_... if you don't sort this right the hell now! They barely tolerate each other at the best of times. Do you really think they'd be okay knowing they fucked each other because of some biological weapon malfunction?"

Geiszler tilted his head and finally looked at Herc full on. "Is that what you're worried about? Well, don't, because it doesn't work that way. It's not a Funky Cold Medina or whatever. It can't make you want someone you wouldn't want anyway."

Herc's mouth opened, closed, opened, then closed for good. He had no idea what to say to something like that. He was so stymied, in fact, that he didn't react when the little bastard edged around him and stood on tiptoe to peer into the sealed hallway.

"Oh, good. Looks like it works like it's supposed to."

A questioning sort of grunt escaped his throat, and he turned as if in a dream to stare almost blindly -- oh, but never blindly enough to _not see_ \-- at whatever Newt was watching. Which was his son and Raleigh Becket damn near making love.

No doubt about it. That wasn't wild, frantic sex in the making. That was slow, languorous strokes and easy, pressing kisses and contented sighs.

Feeling like the worst sort of voyeuristic pervert, Herc tried to look away and couldn't. Their slow, caressing movements were... hypnotic.

"See, most theoretical weapons of this sort aim to drive the population batshit crazy. Even the few scientists currently dabbling with sexual destabilization like this aim for the zero-inhibition, mindless _fuck_ kind of sex."

Thankfully, the little bastard wasn't in chihuahua mode. No frantic, high-pitched yapping. It was almost as if the lazy smut in the other room had tempered the usual frenetic nature.

"But that kind of mindless fucking can be just as dangerous and damaging as crazy-making toxins or even viral weaponry. I didn't want to go that route, so I deliberately engineered my sex bomb to _lower_ rather than completely remove inhibitions, to subtly increase production of the body's natural pheromones, to ramp up the libido, to increase blood flow, and to bring about... almost a low-level buzz, like a double shot of whisky."

Herc swallowed hard as Raleigh's big hands stroked with infinite gentleness over Chuck's broad, muscled, sweat-sheened back.

"The result is perhaps the most humane and, if I may say so, most wingmannish biological weapon ever created to destabilize a population. Gotta be pretty easy to subdue a city that's too busy making sweet, sweet love to bother fighting back."

He really should look away. Chuck's fingers stroking through Raleigh's hair should not be such a fascinating sight. Swallowing hard, he wondered if some of Newt's weird sex potion could possibly be seeping through the blast door.

"So... you're saying...."

"Yeah. There had to be some attraction there or they wouldn't be all over each other right now."

Finally, finally, he managed to tear his eyes away, then spread his big hand over the glass to hopefully cut off most of Geiszler's view. An argument could be made that Newt really was watching _for science_ , but Herc had no interest in hearing it.

"How do you know that for sure?"

Surprisingly enough, the little bastard actually grinned. "I put some in Hermann's coffee last week, then made a point of standing really close to him for the next couple of hours."

His eyebrows shot up. "And?"

"And he was never once tempted. In fact, he damn near kneecapped me with his cane before ordering me out on pain of him moving the line and stealing another foot of lab space all the way across."

Impossibly, Herc found himself laughing at the image, though the laughter had an hysterical edge to it. But at least... well, he wouldn't have thought of it, what with how downright antagonistic Chuck had been and the quiet, stoic anger Raleigh had responded with, but... if there was at least some inclination toward each other....

Huh. He hadn't heard any rumors about Raleigh liking the boys. He'd known for a while now that Chuck could, on rare occasion, go either way -- so long as the brat was unquestionably in the driver's seat, as it were; the kid didn't have patience for that alpha-male posturing bullshit or some bloke wanting to "conquer" the youngest, cockiest jaeger pilot to notch his belt -- but as far as he knew, Raleigh had only ever gone for the ladies.

Then again, the poor bloke had been gone a long time. A lot could happen in five and a half years.

And none of that mattered. Right now, if he couldn't stop the fiasco happening in the sealed-off hallway on the other side of the door, he could at least shorten the sentence.

Giving Geiszler a warning glare to keep away from the window, he edged over to the nearest comm and buzzed Loccent. "Tendo?"

"Yeah, Marshal. Figure out what the emergency cut-off was about?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, we got a... chemical spill of sorts. I need you to vent the hallway, but the gas is... highly toxic, so vent it outside, yeah?"

"Uh... yeah, that's an interior hallway. It only vents into other sections that then vent outside."

Sighing, he rubbed his temple and slumped against the wall. "You gotta be ki-- can we evacuate those sections?"

"Can do, Marshal. It'll take a half-hour or so, but I'll get security on it. So who tripped the alarm?"

"Chuck. And Raleigh." He cleared his throat again. "They're stuck in there, so the sooner we get that gas vented, the better."

"Oh, shit." Tendo's usual laid-back tone sharpened. "Are they okay? Should I send medical?"

"No, no." That might have been a bit quick, but... Jesus, no. "No, they're... uh... staying low to the floor, out of harm's way."

Newt snickered, and Herc shot him a death-promising glare.

"Anyway, they'll have to stay in there a while to make sure it's properly vented before we release the lockdown, but they should be okay. Get on it, yeah?"

"Already on it, sir."

That ought to at least grant them some privacy. Speaking of....

He took off his coat, hung it over the window, then turned and pointed at Newt. "Get 'round the other side of the cut-off and block off the window there. This is no one's business but ours and theirs, and mostly theirs. Unless they come 'round enough to call for help, this section doesn't exist, yeah? I'll have Tendo say it's gone toxic or something to keep rubberneckers away."

"Good idea."

"Dr. Geiszler?"

The little bastard's eyebrows went up behind his glasses. "Yeah?"

Herc put on his best "I've killed bigger things than you" look and held it until the doctor squirmed under its intensity.

_"Absolutely. No. Peeking."_

Finally having the courtesy to blush, Newt nodded and scurried off to find something to cover the other window with. It wasn't perfect, and he still wasn't sure Chuck wouldn't commit murder -- either of Raleigh or of the mad scientist who had caused all the kerfuffle -- when he was in his right mind again, but it was the best he could do for now.

Sighing, he shook his head.

A sex bomb.

 

\--

 

Had he always been in the mist with Chuck? It felt so, even though it felt like they'd only just begun. That pale, freckle-dusted skin tasted so fine, felt so sleek and satiny under his fingertips, the shift of muscle at his every stroke and kiss so damn perfect.

Each piece of removed clothing somehow found its way under Raleigh until he slowly realized he was naked in a comfortable nest of clothes that smelled deliciously of them both, their individual scents combining into a heady musk that went straight to his groin and ignited a slow, spreading heat there. Part of him wondered if he'd ever been so hard in his life while the rest of him seemed to be in no particular hurry to end the condition.

Chuck just tasted so _damn good_.

He whimpered a bit as that sweet, warm mouth pulled away to lick and nip at his chest. His lips felt tingly again without Chuck's taste to distract them, and he felt strangely bereft. Chuck, on the other hand, moaned open-mouthed against his skin as if he'd found the one thing he'd been searching for his entire life. Strong hands locked onto Raleigh's hips as that glorious mouth traced and kissed and sucked here and there, slow and unhurried but still... intent. It felt heavenly, but Raleigh missed that mouth on his own, that taste, that skin and scent close enough for him to bury his nose in.

"Chuck...."

God, his voice sounded guttural and hoarse, as if he'd been asleep for a year and was only now waking up and remembering what words were. As if he was only capable of saying that one thing because it was so precious to him that it was all he could remember.

So he said it again on a sigh. "Chuck...."

A low, rumbling moan was the only response, and it vibrated against the skin just above his groin, leaving him trembling in its wake. Another moan, and he shifted against Chuck's grip, not trying to get away but to feel it more, to feel it tighten. His lips thrummed, his tongue feeling shot full of static, and he wanted, _needed_... needed _something_.

Chuck's warm, slick tongue slid down the crease between his groin and his thigh, and his breath left him on a shuddery sigh. Hot, moist air puffed over the impossibly sensitive skin there as Chuck, too, lost his breath.

"Raleigh... you taste so...."

Lips and tongue and stroking fingertips sent Raleigh into the closest thing to a frenzy as he could achieve in his current state, where time seemed as thick as honey and as pulled as warm taffy. Resonant moans and sighs added to the sensory overload, Chuck's every move and vocalization a sensual torment that Raleigh would do anything to end so long as it never stopped.

A subtle turn of Chuck's head put his warm, soft, lightly-stubbled cheek against the velvet skin of Raleigh's aching cock, and that was all it took for a revelation of an orgasm to roll through him like low thunder on a summer evening. He didn't lock up or buck against Chuck's grip. Nothing so strenuous. He simply undulated as sweet pleasure crested and spilled out of him in a throaty cry of that one word he could still speak.

And then that cherishing, warm mouth was on him, drinking down that release, savoring it off skin still stretched velvety-tight over an erection that hadn't faded. Had, in fact, intensified.

Chuck moaned deep in his throat, the sultry sound vibrating through an arousal that was too sensitive from its refractory period but still so... damn... _hard_. Raleigh writhed slowly at the seemingly contradictory sensations that were too much and not enough at the same time. God, he needed....

He just _needed_.

"Chuck... please...."

Another word that seemed so important, important enough to remember when everything was a haze of aching, throbbing bliss. It meant something, he knew, especially paired with Chuck's name.

And it seemed Chuck understood, because he stroked his whole body up Raleigh's until that glorious scent and taste filled his nose and, soon enough, his mouth. He tasted himself there, too, but he didn't mind. The buzzing in his lips and tongue faded under the slumbrous warmth of Chuck's lips, Chuck's tongue, and he settled back into his clothes nest to savor how the gorgeous weight of that perfect body pressed him down.

He ran his arms around the languorously flexing back to hold Chuck close, then stroked his hands down, tracing the shifting lines of muscle, circling the fascinating indentations in the lower back, trailing lower over the perfectly rounded, taut flesh of the finest ass he'd ever had his hands on.

The groan vibrating in their mouths could have come from either of them.

Parting his legs so Chuck settled more firmly against him was the most natural thing in the world. He lifted his knees, pressing them close, holding that glorious body with all of himself. He'd never felt another man's cock against his own, but a lazy grind of Chuck's hips made him vow to rectify that oversight every chance he got. So long as it was _this_ cock, _this_ heat, _this_ weight against him.

Chuck's arousal throbbing so heavily against his own was... right. Was perfect.

A vague, muzzy part of him wished he could tell Chuck that, but he simply didn't have the words, so he used the only ones he had.

"Chuck, _please_...."

And, greatly daring -- or he would have felt daring any other time; now, it again felt completely natural -- he reached down and took that throbbing heat in hand, giving it a tight, lingering stroke.

With a hoarse, low groan, Chuck came in Raleigh's hand, pulsing his pleasure between them with his face buried in Raleigh's neck. Then, he reached between them and stroked his fingers through his own release even as Raleigh brought his hand to his mouth to see if this tasted as good as everything else about Chuck Hansen.

It did. Of course it did.

Those caressing fingers moved lower still and stroked over a part of himself to which Raleigh had rarely given a thought. Now, though, it had his full attention, nerves singing sonorously as a slick finger slid around and around and then, oh, then slipped inside.

Enough of his mind came back to realize that this was what he'd been curious about but hadn't yet dared to try, and he might not be ready for it, and he really hadn't expected his introduction to be at these particular hands... and then that slick finger slid out and back in, pressing deep, and he didn't care about anything but the feel of something inside where nothing had been inside before.

Chuck moaned softly into his ear, sending warm shivers all through him, and slid another finger in with the first, the stretch washing through him on a wave of pure sensation. It... hurt a little... but it felt so much better. He... he wanted more. He wanted everything.

But he wanted just this, too, and arched his hips up to keep it. And Chuck, generous lover that he'd turned out to be, gave him exactly what he needed by not pulling out but stroking over a spot inside that sent another summer thunderstorm rolling through him.

When he came back to himself, that sweet mouth was on his in a slow, savoring kiss, and another finger had joined its fellows inside. The stretch was... indescribable, and Raleigh arched into it. He knew what came next and wanted it, but, oh, his body felt like molten chocolate as his senses luxuriated in being so oversensitized.

Then, Chuck removed his hand, and Raleigh loosed a low _"nnnnnn..."_ of near-protest. He felt too golden to truly be dismayed, but he already missed having something inside him, and he wanted it back. Wanted more of it.

Chuck's fingers trailed through the mix of their release between them, and then he shifted his hips away and moaned down Raleigh's throat. Missing that comforting weight and heat, Raleigh _nnnn_ -ed again and arched to find it, only to realize that Chuck was stroking their slickness over his own cock.

Oh. _Oh._

"Please... Chuck, please...."

For the first time, there was urgency in his pleading. He wanted that impressive erection inside him, filling him up more than fingers ever could. He wanted _Chuck_ inside him, needed him like he needed air, ached for him.

And Chuck heard that urgency, felt it, and with a murmuring, wordless whisper against Raleigh's parted lips, pressed just inside.

The warmth between them flared to a burn, and Raleigh gasped and arched, his head pressing back into the clothes cushioning him, his fingers digging into the flexing muscle of Chuck's sweat-sheened back. Too much. Not enough.

"Chuck!"

Another flex of strong hips filled him that much further, the stretch both glorious and agonizing. Another press, and he felt like he couldn't take any more, but yet another nudge proved that he could, and one final full-measure thrust showed him that he could take it all as if Chuck had been created just for him, just for this.

They lay together a long moment, trembling in each other's arms, shivering in the heat building between them. It seemed neither of them breathed, though their hearts throbbed the same tribal, pulsing beat.

"Raleigh...." The whisper stirred the air between their lips. "God, Raleigh...."

A distant part of his mind stood astounded that Chuck Hansen -- the arrogant jackass who had called him a bitch and provoked a knock-down drag-out just weeks ago -- was whispering his name so reverently, with such groaning need. He wouldn't have thought the man so furious he could make a dimple look pissed was also capable of such tenderness, such slow and enduring passion.

But that was a very, very distant part. The rest of him was overwhelmed by the heat and pressure of that long, strong body in and all around him. He felt... exposed... and vulnerable... but he also felt safe. Cosseted, even, with Chuck's big hands stroking his skin, with silken lips ghosting sibilants and warm murmurs into his ear and neck.

Then, Chuck's hips moved, and a roll of sweet pleasure swept through him from where they were so tightly connected. His whole body clenched, bringing a thick, slow groan from deep in Chuck's broad chest. Without pulling away, that big body somehow managed to draw almost all the way out and thrust forward with delicious force. It wasn't a gentle thrust, and the stretch and pressure wavered drunkenly along the always hazy line between pleasure and pain, but Raleigh didn't care. He wanted it again. And again.

And Chuck obliged without being asked, again seeming to know what he needed when there were simply no words. Their bodies came together over and over, building the pressure between them until even their names were beyond them, until language was a forgotten, useless artifact of a bygone age because their instincts spoke so much more clearly than words ever could.

They surged like the tides of the ocean that had nearly claimed them both, and even when the waves swamped them each in turn, and then again, and then _again_ , their bodies merely rolled along with that timeless rhythm, following the rush and recede, the push and pull.

Eventually... oh, finally, the tide rolled well out to sea, and, sated and content and tangled together, they fell asleep in a hush.

 

\--

 

"Dammit, Geiszler, how much longer?"

"How should I know?"

Herc paused his agitated pacing and shot the mad doctor a glare. Said mad doctor swallowed hard.

"I can't... the effects are variable, depending on a given body's resistance to outside influences, the individual level of attraction, the overall health of the subject, the amount of exposure... just... too many variables to pin down a generic time frame."

Chafing and frustrated and, yes, worried as hell, Herc resumed his pacing, hands clenched together behind his back. "It's been four hours since we vented the hallway, and still no word."

The doctor shrugged, entirely too at ease. "They're young and strong and probably pretty virile, Marshal."

He shot the little bastard another icy glare.

"I just mean... just... without looking--"

" _No looking!_ "

Geizsler flapped his hands impatiently. "Without looking, I can't tell you if they're still at it or if maybe they've passed out from exhaustion by now and maybe _that's_ why they haven't called for help yet."

Honestly, Herc wasn't sure if that would be better or worse. His nerves were shot from worrying about how the boys would take having fucked each other senseless for four hours straight, and if he didn't hear from one or both of them soon, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have to at least take a peek to make sure they hadn't come out of the effects just to kill each other.

Fidgeting, he strode to the nearest comm unit and buzzed Tendo again. "Anything?"

"Still nothing, Marshal." Poor Choi sounded almost as weary and ragged out as Herc did. "I've set it to only open from the inside like you said so they can leave any time after they've showered off the chemical, but so far... nothing."

"Thanks, Tendo."

Pace, pace, pace. He ought to get down and measure just how much of the floor he'd already worn away.

_C'mon, Chuck. Talk to me. Tell me everything's okay. I didn't get you back from the Breach just to lose you in my own damn Shatterdome._

 

\--

 

Those sweet, warm lips were back, and Raleigh hummed in his throat as they caressed his own. If he could awaken to this mouth, this taste, this scent every time he slept, he wasn't sure he'd ever leave his bed again.

His body, still pliant and warm after its rest, arched slowly against Chuck's perfect weight and heat. His erection, which had never really gone away, ached pleasantly for attention, and he groaned with bliss as a strong hand answered the wordless request and wrapped around for a good, long stroke.

"Chuck...."

A swipe of wet-velvet tongue against his own. "God, Ray... still so damn sweet...."

And then words were gone again as Chuck's hand sped up and brought another roll of summer thunder through him, his body falling slack even as his cock stayed so damn hard. A very dim alarm bell rang somewhere far and wee in his mind, but he felt that now-familiar stroke of fingers through the release on his stomach, the shift of that comforting bulk first away and then back again, and... oh... yes, and filling him up, stretching and heated and so goddamn perfect.

He wrapped himself around that perfection, holding it close both inside and out, savoring the moist warmth of Chuck's breath on his throat, the pressure of Chuck's hands on his hips, his thighs, his ass, the growing strength in every slow, deep thrust. Why had he never dragged Chuck into his bed before?

Or... wait... why had he dragged Chuck into his bed now?

Confused, he shook his head and refocused on being gloriously filled, gloriously rocked higher and higher, held tight and fucked slow. Chuck's deep, thrumming voice murmured at his ear, words and words and they didn't mean anything because his body was doing more talking than his mouth ever could, and then that mouth was on his again, and they both definitely spoke better when they didn't say anything at all.

At a particularly deep thrust, Raleigh arched up off the floor -- the floor? not his bed? -- with a cry into that cherishing mouth, and Chuck's hands immediately caught and held him that way, shifting to thrust there again and again. Pleasure arced through him, sharper and more defined than before, and he threw back his head to shout that pleasure into the haze. He opened his eyes to see Chuck above him, eyes closed and jaw tight and... haze?

There was no haze. Was... had he been dreaming?

Another hard, deep hit, and he forgot everything but the veritable sunrise of need rising up in him. "God, Chuck... right there... don't stop-- _huhn!_ "

His vision went white, and this was no summer thunderstorm. This was a _supernova_ , and his entire body locked up with it, arching and writhing against Chuck's almost punishing grip. And then Chuck cried out, as well, pulsing hot and deep within him, straining into him, body pulled into a taut bow at his climax.

The pinnacle lasted... lasted... then crested, and Raleigh tore a breath into his lungs even as Chuck slumped and all but collasped on top of him with a grunt. Exhausted, he tried to wrap his arms up around that broad, heaving back, but his body was... just... done. He had nothing left.

Without a word, they both passed right the hell out.

 

\--

 

"Five. Fucking. Hours."

"What do you want me to say, Marshal? Those two are healthy as horses. For all I know, they could go at it all night."

"Goddammit, Newt, if you ever say anything like that again--"

"Pardon, Marshal, but if I might interrupt?"

Gritting his jaw and dragging his fury away from the idiot Stacker had left in charge of all the kaiju science, Herc tried not to glare at Dr. Gottlieb, who hovered in the doorway. "Yes?"

The good doctor gave a little tug at what was quickly revealed to be a leash. Max -- and God, but Herc felt awful because he had completely forgotten the damn dog in all the kerfuffle about his damn son -- trotted into the office, head up and stub of a tail trying to wag.

"I found him in the lab, eating Newton's bagel, and thought I should return him. I know you don't like to let him roam around unsupervised or eat too much people food."

As Herc squatted down and gestured for Max to come over for some proper attention, Dr. Geizsler pouted.

"He ate my bagel? Dammit, I was saving that."

Gottlieb rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, Newton. It was stale on one side and soaked with coffee on the other."

Scruffing his hands behind poor ol' Max's ears, Herc tried to tune out the blather. If he'd ever needed his dog to take away his worries, now was the time.

"Wait, how'd he get at my bagel? It was up on the lab table."

"Really, Newton? You think humans and kaiju are the only beings capable of simple problem-solving? You left your chair out. He climbed onto it and then onto the table."

Geizsler's abrupt silence caught Herc's gratefully diverted attention, and he froze as he mentally replayed Gottlieb's explanation. Such a simple explanation.

Realization dawned, and he stared down at Max with a combination of shock and horror and... amusement? Dark amusement, anyway?

"My God, Max." He shook his head. "What have you done?"

 

\--

 

Oh, fuck, he hadn't hurt this bad since he'd dragged himself out of Gipsy Danger's torn-open head on a frozen beach in Alaska. Every muscle ached. Every joint felt packed with ground glass. His head throbbed like a rotted tooth. And what the fuck had he done to his--

Chuck. Fucking. Hansen.

Not even a full minute of blissful memory lapse. Raleigh knew exactly what had happened. He even knew why. And while some of the bits were blurry in that "I had a little too much to drink last night" kind of way, he didn't doubt for a second that every single minute of it had really, truly happened.

They'd been dosed with God knows what and had spent some unknown -- but infinitely fucking long -- period of time fucking like rabbits.

Except... not fast like that. Not... mindless.

For the briefest moment, Raleigh wished he didn't remember that he, at least, had known what he was doing. He hadn't exactly been able to stop, but he hadn't exactly _wanted_ to, either, so maybe he could have if he'd tried. Maybe he should have. God help him.

Running a shaking hand up over his face, he managed a wary side-eye and... yup. There was Chuck's freckled, chiseled, lightly stubbled face not two inches from his own, relaxed of its sarcasm and scorn due to the deep, easeful slumber of one who has been well and truly fucked out. Even his dimple had taken a break from carving deep into his cheek.

Still handsome, though. Maybe even more so at rest. Still with just that hint of smug, as if it was part of his genetic make-up rather than his attitude. Hell, maybe it was.

Chuck... was gonna kill him.

He sat up, realized exactly how disgusting their weird little nest of clothes was after a sweaty, no-clean-up fuck-a-thon, and wondered how the hell he was supposed to get out of here with his head still facing forward and without anything resembling either clothing or the ability to walk normally.

Yes. Sitting up only made his ass hurt worse. Forget Chuck killing him; he was tempted to kill Chuck.

He... he couldn't deal with this.Yesterday, he'd been a mildly bi-curious guy who hadn't been anywhere near getting laid by any gender for over half a decade, let alone intent on pushing his boundaries. Today, he'd had marathon under-the-influence sex with someone who had until recently been an enemy and who had barely become more than an acquaintance since then. And had definitely, _definitely_ pushed his boundaries. He wouldn't walk right for a week.

Stifling a groan that would likely only wake the beast and get him murdered, he shoved painfully to his feet, hobbled awkwardly over to the only open door -- the one through which he'd thrown what should have had the decency to be a grenade -- and sighed with relief to find that it was a group shower and, lo and behold, closeted a row of standard issue PPDC civvies. Someone up there still loved him, even though he'd indulged in hot, sweaty sex with a man. With Chuck.

With _Chuck_.

Forget Chuck killing him. Herc would slaughter him so hard his _ancestors_ would feel it.

Wishing he dared a shower because he felt... weird... in places he'd never felt weird before but already feeling like he was pushing his luck, he settled for wetting a towel and wiping at the worst places, then shrugged into a fresh set of clothes with many a wince. He slowed only long enough to snag his boots on the way by the clothes nest that no longer smelled of lovely musk but outright reeked of sweaty sex and headed for the nearest comm. His hand hovered over the door release button, and....

When he pushed that button, the door would open, and either a dozen people would come rushing in or, worse, just Herc. Either way, he couldn't just....

Grumbling under his breath about exactly how many of his nine lives he'd already gone through today alone and how few he had left, he tiptoed, still barefoot, back into the shower room and dug around on the closet's top shelf until he found an honest to God blanket. Someone really did love him.

So, moving as quietly and carefully as he could, he shook the blanket out, crept up on the arrogant bastard that would probably be hellbent for the kill when he awoke, and draped the blanket over the sleeping, vulnerable, buck-naked body sprawled on the smelly clothes pallet.

Feeling a little better, he backed silently away, thumped the release, and winced at the low, ratcheting grind as the blast door rolled up. To his eternal gratitude, Chuck didn't so much as twitch at the clatter, and Raleigh made good his escape. The halls were mercifully empty -- he wondered if he had Herc to thank for that and how dearly he'd have to pay for it later -- and he made it to his room without anyone asking him who had kicked him directly in the asshole with a giant-size, steel-toed boot.

Once safely inside, he locked his door, took a long, scalding hot shower, and went to bed. There, he pulled the covers over his head and pretended not to hear either the buzzing of the comm or the pounding on his door.

Raleigh Becket was done for the foreseeable future.


	2. The Middle

"It's been two days."

Herc rolled his eyes. "A day and a half."

" _Two_. _Days_." Chuck shoved up from his chair so hard that it toppled over backward. "Does he even have food in there?"

"Chuck, please." He looked up at his son and sighed. "I can't _make_ him come out of his room."

"Yes, you can. You're the marshal."

Firming his expression, he narrowed his eyes. "I will not order him out of his bunk."

Chuck's jaw tightened. "What if he's hurt?"

One eyebrow rose.

Blushing a bit, the brat fidgeted. "I dunno how rough I might have been. And priapism for six hours straight isn't exactly healthy, either. What if he had a stroke or something? All that solo piloting... maybe a gasket blew in his head under the added strain and he's dead on the floor."

They were valid points and Chuck seemed to get more agitated as he went further along the chain of reasoning, but somehow, Herc didn't think any of that was Chuck's main concern. If he wasn't mistaken, his arrogant jackass of a son seemed to be genuinely worried about washed-up has-been Raleigh Becket's overall well-being.

What exactly had happened in that sealed-off hallway?

Frowning through the blush, Chuck righted his chair and slumped down into it. "He hasn't checked out with a medic. I'd just... feel better about the whole thing if... ya know... clean bill of health, and all."

If Herc knew nothing else, it was that he'd damn well better tread carefully here. He and his son got on a lot better since Pitfall, but there were still landmines buried deep in their sketchy relationship.

So, speaking slowly and carefully, he leaned forward and clasped his hands on Pentecost's desk. "Son... is there something you're not telling me?"

Chuck bristled, and Herc braced himself. Then, after a long, tense moment, the brat slumped again. "I just... Mori won't talk him out, you won't order him out, and he won't even yell at me to go away. I'd just feel a lot better if... can't you send someone to check him out? Maybe he'd open up for a medic."

Instead of answering, Herc found himself sitting back, eyebrows raising. "What... you been pounding on his door?"

The blush came back, as did the bristling. "No." The brat actually squirmed in his seat, eyes jerking around the room to look at anything but Herc. "I... knocked. Once or twice. Just to see if the bastard was still alive."

_Don't smirk. Don't smirk. Don't smirk._

"And?"

"And nothing!" Chuck jerked to his feet again and paced furiously. "The useless fuck could be dead in there for all I know!"

A new possibility occurred, and Herc's eyes widened as he considered it, even as he clamped his fool mouth shut to avoid blurting it out.

Was... was Chuck... infatuated? With _Becket?_ Not just attracted enough for Newt's damn sex bomb to affect him, but actually interested?

Before he could even begin to decide what to do with such a revelation, Chuck threw himself down into his chair and covered his face with his hands.

"The way he's acting...." The words were quiet and muffled but still audible. "Dad... what if I _raped_ him? Jesus, I don't even know if he likes men, and I just jumped him and... and _reamed_ him for six hours straight."

A blush heated his own face at more detail than Herc was really comfortable with, but he felt himself softening, even so. The poor kid was ripping himself up.

"And now he's locked in his bunk and won't see or talk to anyone, and... I know it was that can of shit spraying all over us and we didn't exactly have a choice, but I still... I shoulda...."

Sighing, he shook his head. "Chuck, you didn't...." But just saying it wouldn't do anyone any good. "Maybe you should go speak to Dr. Geiszler."

Not lifting his head from his hands, Chuck grunted. "What good would that do? Not like we need an antidote. It wore off."

"Chuck?"

The ginger head stayed bowed, the face hidden.

"Son?"

Ah, that got a response. Sighing, the kid uncovered his face and shot Herc an exhausted, heartsore look.

"Go talk to Newt. Ask him exactly what the gas does. I think you'll feel a lot better, yeah?"

For a long moment, it looked like his stubborn brat of a son would protest. Then, Chuck just sighed again and shrugged.

"I guess it can't hurt."

 _And it might do a helluva lot of good,_ Herc thought but didn't say. _Especially if you're in as deep as you look, kiddo._

So, grinning almost as softly as he had when Chuck first awoke after Pitfall, Herc watched his beleaguered son shove wearily up out of his chair and walk away. He didn't really know what was going on with Becket, and he had no way of knowing if Geiszler's explanation would help or hurt, but he simply didn't know what else to do.

Those two clownshoes would have to work it out on their own.

 

\--

 

Raleigh stared up at the ceiling, wondering how big a coward Chuck thought him by now. Bigger than when he'd run away after Knifehead? Maybe so. _Probably_ so.

After all, Knifehead had cost him his brother, most of his sanity, some use of his left arm, and his title in the PPDC. Not to mention his place in the world and his sense of self. Running away after that was surely understandable, even to a gung-ho jerk like Chuck "If ya have a shot, ya take it" Hansen.

The hallway incident, on the other hand, had only cost him a virginity he'd never even considered and the ability to walk normally for a few days.

He didn't care so much about the dubious virginity of his ass. It didn't feel like he'd lost anything, after all. Hurt like hell that whole first day and still ached on Day Three if he moved too fast, but he wasn't exactly surprised. Chuck was... proportionate. In every way.

Shifting uncomfortably on a mattress he had long since wearied of, Raleigh wondered when he would quit being a complete wuss and just get on with it, already. Chuck clearly wasn't intent on murder if the ten or so visits were any indication. The door-pounding and demands for attention had sounded increasingly irritated but not particularly death-promising.

So what was he so scared of?

Admittedly, he still had no grasp on how he felt about the enigma that was Chuck Hansen. Sure, they hadn't outright fought since that blow-up outside the marshal's office, but they weren't exactly friendly, either. If not for the thing in the hall, he wouldn't even be thinking about the brat. He'd probably never have seen the younger Hansen as anything but an arrogant asshole who was a great jaeger pilot and a swaggering hero, but sadly convinced that Raleigh was poaching his precious dog.

Now, though... now....

Flashes of "the thing in the hall" tumbled through his mind, and he shivered before resolutely shoving the whole thing away. The last thing he needed to dwell on was a sexual encounter he could barely believe even happened, despite the lingering ache. It wouldn't help get his mind around what to do.

Okay, so Raleigh could grudgingly admit that he found the smirking jackass handsome, if only because he'd finally seen the brat from a breath away without earning a busted lip because of it. And without the smirk.

But did grudgingly admitting that Chuck was objectively attractive mean anything in the grand scheme of things? He just didn't know. Even after three days of rolling it around in his head, he didn't know what to make of it. Despite an occasional curiosity, he'd never thought of himself as... gay... so did finding another man objectively attractive after having felt that man turn him inside out in a chemically-induced sexcapade mean he was? Or did it just mean that he was making way too much out of something that, at the end of the day, hadn't really been a choice for either of them?

And if he couldn't puzzle out his own feelings, he had no chance whatsoever of intuiting Chuck's. Why had the jerk been by so often? Was he trying to taunt Raleigh out so he could laugh at him in front of witnesses? Was an epic beatdown in the making, since a brutal killing was (probably) off the list?

Or... was Chuck maybe... concerned? Did he maybe want to talk about what had happened and what it might or might not mean? Was he asking himself any of these questions?

Hell, had Chuck even been curious about... men... before now? It wasn't exactly something that had come up in the mutual taunting that passed for conversation between them.

Then again, the kid had definitely known what he was doing. Surely that was experience, not blind lust. Not like Raleigh would've had a clue how to... move things along, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

Or maybe none of that even mattered. Maybe the big jerk just wanted him to know that it didn't mean anything at all. That it didn't change anything. And... would that be okay? That was probably the best case scenario. Which was what Raleigh wanted... right?

Sighing, he kicked his legs over the edge of his bed and sat up, wincing even now and scruffing a hand through his hair. Before he could decide if he dared poke his head into the mess hall in an attempt to restock his dwindling food supply, he finally acknowledged a sound he'd been hearing for a few minutes that just hadn't registered. A... scratching? Sort of metallic?

Frowning, he looked around his bunk, vaguely concerned about rats, then focused on the door. Something was scratching at the outside of his door. Was this some new trick to lure him out?

Mako had left him alone, for the most part. She had murmured a quiet inquiry through the door once but had left when he called back that he was fine and just needed to be alone for a while. Because she was amazing, she had believed him and respected his wishes. He had no doubt she'd be there for him when he nutted up enough to leave the safety of his room, and she would listen without judgment.

Even Herc had left him alone, and Raleigh could barely believe his luck, there. Apparently, the good marshal wouldn't hold a dousing with a chemical or biological weapon of some sort against him. If Hansen, Sr., hadn't already slaughtered him for sullying his precious and only son, Raleigh guessed the worst danger was past, there.

And Chuck wouldn't bother scratching pitifully. The one person who _hadn't_ left him blissfully alone, Chuck would likely do what he'd done every other time he'd stopped by -- pound on the door and holler, "Oi, Ray! What the fuck, mate? You dead in there or what?" until eventually giving up and going away.

Scritch scratch scritch. Scratch scratch.

Curious despite himself, Raleigh got up and headed for the door. If nothing else, he could peek out to make sure the coast was clear.

Unfortunately, he saw nothing through the peephole, and the scritching only continued, so, taking a deep breath, he cracked open the door just enough to peer through. His reward was a snuffle and a groaning whine that he instantly recognized.

Sighing, he squatted down and opened the door enough for Max to push through. The dog -- as lovable and cuddly as its owner was abrasive and prickly -- fairly leapt into his chest, tongue slathering slobber everywhere and paws scrabbling at his sweater. Laughing even as he landed on his still-tender ass, Raleigh scruffed the bulldog's squashed face and scratched behind the floppy ears, feeling his mood lighten.

"Still trying to get me killed, I see."

Max made happy groany noises and butted his big, blocky head against Raleigh's chest, demanding more attention.

"So where's your dad? Will he come storming in on a rampage, or did you manage to sneak away again?"

After several moments with no rampaging Chuck, Raleigh guessed the dog had wandered away yet again and figured he ought to see the little booger back home before someone came looking or he ended up in trouble again. If he was proactive, he could drop Max off with Herc and keep right on avoiding Chuck.

...Which he hadn't actually realized he was doing until just now. Dammit. So much for all his fine reasoning and soul-searching.

He really _was_ a coward.

Sighing, he pushed aside this not-terribly-surprising revelation and shoved to his feet, looking around for his boots. He didn't feel like changing out of his so-attractive sleep pants and sweater ensemble, so it didn't take more than a minute to stomp into his boots and lace them up and head out into the hall with Max at his heels.

Nerves assailed him, leaving him cautiously eyeing each interconnecting hallway before venturing across. He wasn't even really sure what he was looking for, though he guessed he half-expected a sneak attack from Chuck. Fortunately, he didn't meet anyone on the way to the marshal's office.

Unfortunately, the marshal wasn't there. The office was empty and looked like it had been for a while. Well, he could always try Herc's room. It was a bit of a gamble, since it was right next door to Chuck's, but a glance down at Max's dopey grin was all it took to convince him.

He peeked into the mess hall on the way, but the big room was a ghost town. Not surprising for late afternoon and with most of the Shatterdome personnel on leave. Still... no Herc. Strike two.

And, after several good, loud knockings on the marshal's door, Raleigh grudgingly acknowledged that he'd just struck out. It'd have to be Chuck, after all.

God help him.

He'd faced kaiju. He'd stared down his own demons when he came back to the PPDC. He had fearlessly thrown himself into another dimension to blow up an entire other world.

He could handle one arrogant Australian jerk.

Swallowing hard, he fidgeted outside said jerk's door for a long moment, then forced himself to knock.

"Oi, Dad, I told you I don't wanna--"

The door flung itself open, revealing a scowling and steamy-damp Chuck who had clearly just climbed out of the shower. His hair was wet and stuck up in random spikes, beads of water gathered here and there in his chest hair and in the cuts of his abs and obliques, and a lazily-wrapped towel hung low on narrow hips.

And Raleigh was staring. Which was probably okay, because Chuck was staring, too.

Finally: "Ray?"

And, because Raleigh was a complete moron when caught flat-footed, he could only point at the dog and blurt, "Max."

One ginger eyebrow rose.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry. Uh... Max was scratching at my door. I brought him back. I swear I didn't feed him anything. Bye."

Stacker himself would have been impressed by the crispness of his pivot as he tried to make his escape, but apparently, escape wasn't on the menu.

"Ray, wait."

But he didn't want to wait. It was too soon. He had no idea what to say or do, and he should've given himself another day or so. Maybe a week. Hell, maybe he should've just snuck out of Hong Kong entirely under cover of darkness and confirmed his cowardice forever in Chuck's eyes.

He wasn't ready for this.

"Please?"

The hesitant note in that usually strident voice struck him, and he didn't take that last step down off the stoop. He didn't turn around, but he didn't flee, either.

"I've been trying to--" Chuck cut himself off and sighed heavily. "Oi, turn around, dammit. I'm not gonna bite."

And while the tone spoke of exasperation, Raleigh couldn't help feeling relieved. That, if nothing else, told him that an epic beatdown wasn't in the offing. So, he turned back around and shoved his hands in his pockets, not sure what to expect.

To his surprise, Chuck looked equally awkward and hesitant, which relieved even more of Raleigh's anxiety.

"You alright, then? Not... hurt or anything?"

His eyebrows shot up. That sounded an awful lot like concern. He was surprised enough to answer a bit more candidly than he'd thought to. "My ass is still kinda sore, but otherwise...."

Another surprise on the afternoon -- Chuck's cheeks heated, the freckles standing out more with the blush. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I, uh... well...."

Still feeling awkward, he shrugged jerkily. "Not your fault. It's not like either of us planned on...."

"Right."

They both fidgeted awkwardly, Raleigh shuffling his feet and Chuck toying with the tucked edge of his towel, for a long, almost painful moment.

"I should--"

But Chuck cut him off. "Wanna come in? Just... I'll get dressed, and we could... talk?"

Max looked from one to the other and whined, then brushed past Chuck's bare, damp legs to head for his water bowl. Oddly enough, Raleigh felt almost abandoned, which brought some of his anxiety back. What the hell was he doing here, anyway?

"I think we should, yeah?" Chuck sounded... almost desperate. "Get this thing out in the open. 'S pointless to keep avoiding each other when there's only like fifty people left in the whole 'Dome."

Said as if Chuck had been avoiding him rather than him avoiding Chuck.

He wanted to decline as politely as possible, but... he found he wasn't as immune to that look on the jerk's face as he used to be. Maybe it was the hazy, reluctant memory of those lips ghosting over his heated skin. Maybe it was the phantom feel of those big, gentle hands stroking over him and holding him close.

Whatever. He couldn't just leave. That option was no longer on the table.

Sighing, he shrugged and stepped in when Chuck stepped back. His tension ratcheted up a bit when the door closed behind him, but he couldn't wuss out now.

"Have a seat. I'll just--" The brat gestured toward the bathroom.

Raleigh nodded, then pulled the rolly chair out from under the little desk when Chuck closed the door between them. He glanced around as he sat, fidgeting already, his eyes flitting from the few pictures -- of Max, of course -- taped to the walls, the engineering and mechanics schematics strewn on the desk and rolled up in the otherwise empty bookshelves, and the three separate tablets -- two on the desk holding down schematic corners and one on the bed. Otherwise, the bunk was military-neat and clean, the bed made, no clothes or food or trash on display.

It suited Chuck somehow. The kid had grown up in the military, after all. Raleigh really hadn't expected trinkets and knicknacks. Hell, had Chuck even been outside a Shatterdome in any of the cities he'd saved from annihilation?

It was a sad thought, and he shook it away. Didn't matter anymore. If Chuck wanted to see the world, he could see all of it he wanted now. Probably all-expenses-paid, what with that whole "saving the world" thing.

"Oi, Ray?" Chuck hadn't opened the door, but Raleigh could hear him just fine.

"Yeah?"

"If it makes you feel any better, no one knows. Ya know. What happened."

Raleigh's eyebrows shot up, and he sort of wished he could gauge Chuck's expression.

"I just... Dad knows because he responded to the hallway cut-off and Newt knows because it was his biological weapon Max set off, but everyone else just thinks it was a chemical spill of some sort."

That was... actually a big relief. He'd been too caught up in what to do about Chuck to really think about it, but the idea of the dozens of people still rolling around the Shatterdome knowing that Chuck Hansen had thoroughly and repeatedly plowed his ass suddenly didn't settle well, and he was glad to know that wasn't an issue.

"I mean... if that's what you were worried about."

Sighing, Raleigh acknowledged that hit, even if it might not have been an intentional one. Chuck wanted to know why Raleigh had hid, and honestly, he sort of had a right to know. Maybe it'd be easier to tell him with a door between them.

Clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably, he tried to respond. "That's not... I mean, it's good to know, but that's not...."

He could almost see Chuck standing at the sink, fully dressed but making no move to leave the bathroom. The kid wasn't stupid; he probably guessed Raleigh would clam up the minute he showed his handsome, dimpled jerkface.

"I just needed to think." He winced and swallowed hard. "I mean, it's nothing to do with you, really--" Lie. Well, sort of a lie. "--but I've never... ya know... with a guy... and I didn't know... was kinda curious, but never really thought about it... and...."

_God, please shut me up. I am a complete moron. Chuck will have ammo forever if I don't stop making words happen._

The door opened.

Raleigh's mouth shut.

Chuck stared at him, face carefully blank. The handsome bastard was still barefoot, but he'd put on some loose, slouchy pants and a t-shirt that only barely cut off circulation over his guns and broad chest. Raleigh had felt all that muscle flex at his slightest touch, had savored the weight of it pressing him into the floor, had buried his face in that warm, strong column of throat. He couldn't ignore it now any more than he could ignore the panic-pit yawning open in his stomach.

"You didn't even know you were...." Trailing off, Chuck shook his head and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. "Jesus."

He should keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, it had a mind of its own.

"So I just... had to... think. For a while. Get my head around it."

The hard jawline clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed. "And you've not talked to Newt yet?"

Trying not to fidget, he shrugged. "Didn't know I needed to. I didn't even know it was his thing until you said it a minute ago." He tilted his head, trying to gauge Chuck's mood as the worst of the panic receded in the face of Chuck's... being reasonable. Unfortunately, the jerk wasn't giving him as much to work with as usual. "Should I have?"

This time, when Chuck ran his hand through his hair, he gripped and tugged a bit, then slumped back against the doorjamb. "I... maybe? I dunno if I should be the one to... explain... what with you not having really...."

His eyebrows crowded together in a frown. "Are you making sense? I'm honestly not sure right now."

Okay, he probably should've worded that more tactfully, but his own nerves were already shot, and he simply wasn't capable of worrying about Chuck's, too.

Thankfully, though the jerk frowned, too, Chuck didn't actually blow up at him. Miraculous.

"You need to know how the damn gas works, and I dunno if it's really fair for me to tell you."

He blinked. "Why wouldn't it be fair?"

Chuck grunted. "Because you shouldn't have to be looking me in the eye when you find out. You ought to have a chance to think about it first." He gestured vaguely. "Get used to the idea, yeah?"

Completely stymied, Raleigh shook his head. "What idea?"

Sighing, the poor kid scrubbed his hands over his face and thunked his head back against the jamb. "Okay. Alright." Closing his eyes, he huffed a longer sigh. "That gas wasn't like a love potion. It wouldn't work on just anyone. There had to be a... an attraction of sorts to... take effect."

Oh. Well.

Huh.

"And since you said you hadn't really thought about... with a bloke... I have to assume you weren't thinking about _me_ that way... so... might be a bit of a shock to you, yeah?"

Boggled and pretty sure he looked like the world's biggest idiot, Raleigh could only stare. He was distantly grateful that Chuck wasn't looking at him -- that the man who, only a few weeks before, would have gleefully punted him out of the Shatterdome and Hong Kong and maybe even the human race entirely now had the courtesy to give him as much privacy as possible to absorb that kind of infodump.

But mostly, he was appalled to realize that he must have, at least subconsciously, been attracted to Chuck Fucking Hansen and never even noticed. Was that maybe why the little bastard annoyed him so easily? Why Raleigh put up with it, for the most part?

After a long silence, Chuck gave him a wary side-eye. "So you can see why it might be fucking awkward for _me_ to tell you."

That, at least, sounded like the Chuck he'd come to expect. Oddly enough, the bit of snark... relaxed him. A little.

Just enough for him to draw a seemingly logical conclusion.

"So, wait, that means you--"

"Quit while you're ahead, there, mate."

Despite being cut off and the scowl settling onto those handsome features, Raleigh smirked. He did, however, quit while he was ahead. It was as much a verification as he was likely to get.

So... what did any of this mean?

Maybe he should ask that.

"So... what do we do with this?"

He watched Chuck's expression with some fascination, strangely surprised to realize that the brat had more than a one-track expressive circuit. Sure, he'd gotten used to gauging the arrogant bastard's scowl levels, but this was altogether different.

Chuck had dimensions. Who knew?

Finally, the handsome features settled into a very slight frown, and Chuck shrugged. "Nothing. Not yet. I've had plenty of time to think it over, but you haven't."

It was... a surprisingly generous answer. For whatever reason, Chuck was handling him like old, wet dynamite, and while that might irritate him any other time because he wasn't a fucking fragile flower, he couldn't help but appreciate it now. He had no idea what to say or do about this whole mess, and he did, indeed, need some time to think it over without worrying about pissing Chuck off further with an inappropriate reaction.

But... he couldn't help but wish for a little... direction.

Eyeing the... Jesus, he had to stop thinking of Chuck as a jerk and a brat and, for God's sake, a kid. No kid had a dick that big.

Eyeing the man who might or might not be trying to be a friend instead of an asshole, Raleigh ventured one last question. "What do _you_ want?"

For the first time, Chuck met his gaze straight on, and the eye contact was... compelling. Those eyes were as changeable as the man's temper, as grey and green and blue as the ocean in the sun, never the same from one moment, one look to the next.

And just like that, the intensity was gone, and Chuck looked away, dropping his gaze to the floor between them.

"I want you to think about what _you_ want, Ray."

When Raleigh had nothing to say in response to that, Chuck shot him a quick side-eye and smirked a little.

"And I want you to bloody well eat something. You're still too damn skinny. Only an idiot would lock himself in a room with no food after being on rations for five years."

Out of nowhere, a grin quirked his mouth. "Are you asking me to dinner?"

"Don't push your luck, asshole."

Eh. What fun was a life not lived dangerously?

"So... not a date, then?"

"Oi, fuck off!"

Wonder of wonders, Raleigh left with a laugh instead of a black eye. Could've been worse.

 

\--

 

Herc could not be more surprised when he strolled into the mess hall and found Raleigh sitting at a small table off to the side, a full tray in front of him, just as if he'd never locked himself in his bunk for three days.

Well, two and a half.

"Oi, Raleigh." He'd intended to hit the line first, but concern made him divert over and sit down across from the kid. "You alright, then?"

That earned a wry smile. "That seems to be the question of the day, but yeah. I'm fine. Went by medical for a check, just to be sure."

"Good, good." Though it didn't explain the three-day voluntary incarceration. "Do you know what...?"

 _That_ earned a blush, though Raleigh ducked his head to try to hide it. "Yeah. Talked to Newt and got the whole story." Shift-shift, twitch-twitch. "I... uh...."

Herc grinned, unable to help himself. "You don't have to explain anything to me, ranger. I'm not one to judge, and those weren't exactly normal circumstances."

The kid cleared his throat and shifted some more. Did his ass still hurt, or was it just embarrassment?

"Yeah." Another wry grin. "So... no shovel talk, then?"

His eyebrows shot up and he chuckled. "Is one needed?" But he put a hand up before the poor bloke could even open his mouth. "Honestly, if it is, it oughtta go to Chuck. If anyone's likely to break someone's heart, it's that little shit."

 _And you don't have anyone else to stand up for you,_ he thought but didn't say. He could never be so cruel as to remind someone that almost everyone they loved was gone.

He was, however, intrigued when Raleigh's eyebrows shot up and the kid blushed again. "Uh... don't think you have to worry too much about that. Broken hearts, I mean." Fidget, twitch. "Not like we're... I mean, it was just... he doesn't...."

Herc stared, both fascinated and debating whether or not he should be appalled. Fascinated because, in the relatively short time Raleigh Becket had been in the Shatterdome, Herc had never once seen the kid flustered. Angry, yes. Thrown by the Drift, absolutely. Stuttering and blushing and unable to complete a single coherent thought? Never.

Appalled because he had his suspicions that he might be in for a shovel talk with the bastard, after all. He was suddenly fairly sure his son's prickly, closely hoarded heart was indeed at risk of being broken.

Undecided, he put on his best poker face. "Have you spoken with Chuck, then?"

Becket nodded, staring down at food that never quite seemed to make it off the plate and into his mouth. "He's the one who told me to talk to Newt."

So he had to know that the sex bomb wouldn't have worked on just anyone, that an underlying attraction had to already be there. Had Chuck not said...?

Oh, so careful here.

"And nothing else?"

The kid cleared his throat again and blenched. "He said... when I told him I hadn't... with a guy... and didn't know I... well... he said he wanted me to think about what I want."

Herc blinked, taking a moment to parse through all the stuttering and narrative gaps. So, Raleigh _hadn't_ been with a man before, after all? Well, that did change things. Might explain why Chuck apparently hadn't made his interest plain.

But still.... "And you took that to mean...?"

Becket tipped his head to one side, finally looking Herc full-on, but just as he opened his mouth to answer, he smiled instead. "Mako! Hey, over here!"

Dammit. Of all the bad timing.

But he didn't begrudge Raleigh the obvious relief on those still-haggard features when Mako sat down beside him, close enough that their upper arms touched. It was a leftover of the Drift, Herc knew, and there didn't seem to be anything sexual about it, but even that brief, innocent contact lit the kid up like a flashlight in his face. Hm.

"I missed you." Smiling softly in that oh-so-Mako way, Miss Mori bumped her shoulder against Raleigh's. "If Marshal Hansen--"

"Oi, just Herc, for pity's sake." God, he hated the title. _Dammit, Stacker._

Her smile at him was much wider. "If _Herc_ hadn't assured me that you weren't in any medical danger from your exposure, I would be furious with you, Raleigh Becket."

Raleigh ducked his head and grinned sheepishly. "I know, I know. I just...."

She nodded and nudged him a bit. "I know."

And the damnedest thing was... she probably _did_ know. Sometimes, the Drift worked that way, even when it was over. She wouldn't know exactly what had happened or even what Raleigh thought about it, but Herc had no doubt she'd have known if Becket had been in any real danger, physical or otherwise. And all the locked metal doors in the world wouldn't have kept her from her copilot if that had been the case.

"Oi, you bastards all having a party without me?"

Surprised, Herc stared, wide-eyed, as Chuck plunked down his tray right next to him, not even trying to crowd in on the other side of the table or shove him over to sit right across from Raleigh.

"You not eating, Dad?"

Blinking, he shook off his stupor and tried to look like he knew what the hell was going on. "Started to, but I saw Sleeping Beauty over here and wanted to make sure he wasn't in any distress."

Chuck smirked. "What, you gonna be his Prince Charming, then?"

Poor Becket was a surely painful shade of red by this point, and it spoke greatly of Mori's control that she wasn't snickering, though she couldn't hide the twitching at the corners of her mouth.

Herc was tempted -- God, was he tempted -- to say something along the lines of "Thought that role was already taken", but if Chuck hadn't said anything to Raleigh and since Raleigh clearly hadn't had a chance to share any of the mess with Mako....

Well, he wouldn't be the one to blurt.

So, he narrowed his eyes at his brat. "Are you saying I'm not a prince, or I'm not charming?"

Raleigh laughed, and even Mako loosed a quiet chuckle, but Chuck only smirked and clocked him on the shoulder, careful not to hit too hard, even on the good side. The break had mostly healed, but the doctor had threatened amputation if Herc didn't promise to take it easy for a while.

Thankfully, the conversation moved to other topics, and Herc was able to excuse himself to fill a tray without fear of missing anything important. When he returned and sat back down, the talk was all about the potential of salvaging a few old jaegers until they could get final permission to start on new ones and exactly how giant were the assholes on the UN council for dragging their feet despite all the evidence pointing to the kaiju finding another way in.

He participated, but he also just watched. He watched Becket and his son, looking for... a spark. A sign that Chuck would 'fess up or that Raleigh would return that potential for affection.

It wasn't there. At least, it wasn't glaringly obvious.

He _was_ quietly pleased to see that the latent hostility between them was gone. Oh, there was plenty of snark. Chuck had always run a smart mouth with a sharp tongue, and Herc had never once seen Raleigh back down from it. Hell, the kid could dish it out just as quick as the brat could serve it up.

So they traded potshots, but the words no longer held any heat. Herc was, quite honestly, thrilled to see it. He'd known from the start that, if those two could just get over themselves, they'd realize how alike they both thought. Hell, after their little dust-up outside Pentecost's office, he'd only been grateful they hadn't met as younger kids and teamed up. They'd have brought the whole Shatterdome down with their antics.

So, in his opinion, if they only ended up good mates after what had happened, Herc would be well pleased. Chuck had never been one for making friends -- never really had time for them, or a remotely approachable attitude -- and now that it looked like the world would go on spinning for a while yet, it was long past time to start making up for lost time.

But every so often, he'd catch... a look. From Chuck. At Raleigh.

Not longing. Not even angry. Just... assessing, maybe? Maybe even the same look Herc wore as he tried to covertly assess the pair of them, as if Chuck was trying to see if there was more than simple comradery under the lack of hostility?

When dinner was over and Chuck casually asked Raleigh if he'd be up for a spar after dinner settled and Raleigh shrugged and agreed, Herc made an instant mental note to find something important to do near the kwoon. Just in case. If Chuck was looking for more than a lack of hostility and Becket was content with simple comradery, a spar in the kwoon could go very badly, indeed.

So, both relieved and concerned, Herc sighed and turned his full attention to his food. He hoped he wouldn't need his strength, but... well... once a ranger, always a ranger, and rangers believed in being prepared.

 

\--

 

Days passed, and -- wonder of wonders -- the world didn't cease to exist just because Raleigh Becket had emerged from his hiding place after having been introduced to gay sex. Hell, he could even hang around with the man who'd performed the introduction, and while he couldn't help but be struck offguard once in a while with the knowledge that the guy with whom he was sparring or eating or watching Star Trek reruns had been balls-deep in his ass for hours on end, that knowledge didn't seem to throw anything too far off-kilter.

Chuck had been blessedly -- uncharacteristically? -- gracious about the whole thing, and Raleigh was more than grateful.

Except, as the days turned into a week, he couldn't help but notice a certain... reserve. A growing distance, maybe. While Chuck was as caustically engaging as he'd been since Raleigh finally dragged out of his hidey-hole, the younger ranger made less and less effort to seek him out.

The first few days, it had been, "Oi, Ray - match in the kwoon?" or "You're not eating enough. Do I have to drag you to the mess?" or the infamous "Why are you so into a show that ended thirty years before you were even born?" that led to an all-night Star Trek marathon of favorite episodes and a couple of the movies.

But just as Raleigh started to think he and Chuck might be on their way to an actual friendship, he realized he hadn't seen or heard from his new pal since supper the evening before. No offer to take Max out for walkies or a late-morning jog around the 'Dome. No threatening bodily injury if Raleigh skipped lunch again helping Dr. Gottlieb clear out another lab space because he was tired of Newt sneaking the line further into Hermann's territory.

It hadn't occurred to him how much a part of his day the grumpy Australian had become in just a week until he hadn't seen said grumpy Australian all day.

However, when they all came together at supper, it was snarky business as usual, and Raleigh forgot his moment's unease, even when Chuck begged out of another movie marathon by pleading exhaustion from hauling jaeger scrap around the jaeger bays all day. Raleigh completely understood.

Until the same thing happened the next day. No walkies. No midmorning spar. No near food fight at lunch. No sign of one Chuck Hansen until dinner rolled around and the big jerk strolled up into the mess hall, fresh from a shower like nothing was amiss.

And the next day.

And the next, at which point the brat didn't even show up for dinner.

It... gave him pause. Two weeks ago, Raleigh wouldn't have cared a fart in the wind for what Hansen, Jr., did with his free time, but things had changed. Unfortunately, he hadn't been aware of exactly how much until he looked across the supper table at Chuck's empty seat and found himself missing the slightly caustic banter, the mental sparring that kept him on his toes.

And the dimple, of course. It was easy to miss that left dimple. Hell, the right one, too, if he was being honest.

Maybe he'd accidentally said or done something to clue Chuck into exactly how easy Raleigh suddenly found his company. Just because he hadn't noticed himself didn't mean the big jerk was equally oblivious. Chuck might be a heavy-hitting brawler in a fight, but he'd never been slow on the uptake. It was all too likely that Raleigh had showed a little too much neediness or affection in a blissfully unaware moment that Chuck hadn't been able to ignore.

But if he had, what could he do about it? He couldn't exactly run the man down and ask if he had without showing that much more neediness.

Then again... Chuck _had_ told him to think about what he wanted. And Raleigh was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that he hadn't really done so until just now. He'd done pretty much what he'd always done -- a determined but head-down trudge forward after a life-changing moment. Like after his mother died and his father left. Like after Knifehead. Hell, like after Pitfall.

He'd never been much for introspection. He far preferred moving on to thinking about the consequences of doing so. As he'd so bluntly told Mako just before the drop for Pitfall, he'd never really thought about the future, perhaps because he hadn't expected to have one.

Unfortunately, now that he really thought about it... that strategy hadn't worked out well for him in the past.

So... what _did_ he want? Since this was pretty much the only thing Chuck Hansen had ever asked him for -- the jerk had demanded plenty as a ranger, but that had been all about saving the world -- Raleigh really had no excuse for ignoring it. Even if he really, really wanted to.

Why couldn't things just keep going along the way they had been?

Because things had been good since Pitfall. Sure, he still had nightmares -- Knifehead, Mako running out of oxygen, the Anteverse, that moment in his pod where he was pretty sure he'd died a little bit but had never told anyone -- when insomnia didn't keep him prowling the Shatterdome hallways at night. Sure, he still wasn't used to having plenty of food available and tended to stockpile non-perishables in his bunk's fridge and on the upper shelf of his closet, just in case. Of course, that stockpile had come in handy during his little hide-out from the world, but still. He knew it wasn't "normal" behavior.

But... he had Mako now. He wasn't alone anymore. She didn't fill the hole Yancy had left in his mind and soul, but she was as close as a sister and he was infinitely grateful to have found her. She was his rock, his shelter in the storm of his life, and, now that Pentecost was gone, Raleigh hoped he was the same for her.

And she had... redeemed him. He had saved her, where he hadn't been able to save Yancy. It... _freed_ him somehow, and he would always be grateful for that second chance and to her for... just... being Mako.

Hell, even Herc had become like a favorite uncle, even with the whole hallway incident. Warmer than Pentecost had ever been, Herc was the kind of man who led because people chose to follow, because people knew he'd be right there in the trenches with them.

Yes, Pentecost had been a great leader; he embodied the authority of his title and radiated a certain calm confidence, had quietly cared about his charges and hadn't hesitated to sacrifice himself to save the world. But Herc....

Hercules Hansen was a great leader because he didn't give a damn about a title. He cared about _getting shit done._ He was the type to jump up on a boulder and shout "Follow me!" and damn well take that hill or that camp or that city. He was like something out of one of Raleigh's beloved World War II histories, and he admired the hell out of the man and had elevated him to near mythic folk hero status in his own mind.

He had even become strangely close to Dr. Gottlieb. The Beckets had never been A-plus students, but they'd never been stupid, either, and once he started to make sense of Gottlieb's constant math babble, he found that he actually kind of liked the stodgy git. The proper exterior camouflaged a delightfully dry wit and an awkward, oddly sweet anticipation of the baby due in just over a month.

Plus, he thoroughly enjoyed the proper but fiery way Gottlieb took absolutely no shit from one Newt Geiszler, who still sometimes put Raleigh's back up with a careless, thoughtless comment.

And then... Chuck. What the hell to say about Chuck?

Making his slow way back to his bunk and reluctantly acknowledging how subdued he felt without having crossed mental swords with the brat all day, Raleigh forced himself to think about things he'd been subconsciously shoving aside. He was woefully aware that he could no longer afford to avoid introspection. His life was no longer about surviving another day, hiding who he was on the Wall, or mentally counting down until the next kaiju attack. It was no longer about forward momentum.

For the first time in his life, he had no choice but to stop and think.

Even the thought of _just thinking_ made him edgy, so instead of climbing the steps to his bunk, he detoured over to the kwoon. He could at least be _doing_ something while stewing in his own mental funk. Thankfully, the kwoon was empty, and Raleigh took up a bo with relief, giving it a twirl before settling into a routine.

So... Chuck Hansen.

He could admit the man was handsome. Hell, he could even admit that he'd spent more than a little time remembering the weight of that body pressing him down, those big, surprisingly gentle hands stroking every inch of him, and God above, that _mouth_.

_Focus, dammit!_

Taking a vicious swipe at an invisible opponent, he again shoved such thoughts from his head, then... paused. Maybe he shouldn't shove those thoughts away. Maybe that's what he should be thinking about.

Because he had a damn hard time _not_ thinking about it. It crept into his mind at the oddest moments, and if he didn't shut it down fast enough, he'd find himself physically reacting. On one memorable occasion, he'd awakened in the night from dreams of it -- a pleasant change from his nightmares, but disconcerting, nonetheless -- and hadn't been able to stop himself from following through.

Yes. Okay. He'd jacked off to the phantom feel of Chuck's hands and mouth, to the hazy memory of being so thoroughly filled. He hadn't jacked off in a dog's years, but it had just felt so damn good. And yet... not half as good as the real thing.

The invisible opponent would have lost its head if it existed. Of course, Raleigh was distracted enough that, if his opponent was real, it would have already knocked him down and tied him into a pretzel at least twice by now.

_Focus. Jesus._

Okay, so maybe he wanted to feel that again. Maybe he wanted to feel _Chuck_ again. He could... admit that, even if it distracted him enough to kneecap himself with his own bo. As he rubbed his wounded knee, he made himself think a little further down that road.

Did he want Chuck, or did he just want that feeling?

A confusing tumble of memories flitted past his consciousness. Seeing the jerk for the first time -- Chuck's unimpressed, flat glare as Raleigh gave him a "the hell did I do to you?" look and walked on. That infuriating little smirk after Pentecost said Mako wasn't an option as copilot and Raleigh would be stuck with some random schmoe. The billowing steam from the ruptured pipe not hiding the Fury Dimple cutting deep into Chuck's cheek even as his jaw clenched hard enough to chew bricks. The nod and reluctant almost-smile after the double event.

The feel of Chuck Hansen standing at his side while Pentecost riled them into canceling the apocalypse. That had been a damn good feeling.

Had... had that been the start of it? Because, looking back on it, on how _right_ it had felt to have that solid, reliable bulk at his side while the world teetered on the brink... he thought maybe it was. Maybe not attraction yet, but definitely appreciation.

No, attraction had come later. And, now that he was no longer avoiding his thoughts, he was pretty sure he knew when.

One last memory chased past his mind, and he sat down, lotus-style, to really focus on it. Chuck had required a few more days in medical after Pitfall, thanks to a radiation scare from a minute breach in his escape pod, and the brat hadn't been thrilled about it. However, instead of making everyone who dared visit him as miserable as he was, the usually abrasive jerk had actually been... surprised by all the attention. Grateful for it, even.

And when Raleigh had daringly snuck Max in -- Mako, God love her, had run interference by claiming a sudden and blinding headache that instantly brought all medical attention to her -- the look on Chuck's bruised, pale face....

For one brief, beautiful second, the arrogant prick had looked at Raleigh with all the adoration and gratitude and pleased surprise in the world, and Raleigh had felt his heart jump up into his throat. The snark had come back almost instantly,of course, but in that one moment, he had been Chuck Hansen's hero, and... that was it.

Because a hero-worshipping Chuck was downright gorgeous.

Shaking his head and laying his bo across his lap, Raleigh Becket finally gave in. He didn't want just anyone. He didn't want just any _man_.

He... wanted Chuck.

"Oi, mate. You falling asleep sitting up now?"

Unable to speak and distantly grateful for that fact, he looked up at the man in question and stared, feeling lost.

"Ray? You alright, there?"

Honest concern sat well on Chuck's features. Almost as well as a cocky smirk. Almost as well as raw passion.

A shiver shot through him. "I know what I want."

Ginger eyebrows shot up. "Do what now?"

_Don't screw this up. Do not screw this up!_

He took a calming breath and swallowed his heart back down into his chest, where it belonged. "You said you wanted me to think about what I want. I _know_ what I want."

Chuck tensed, the concern neatly hidden behind a carefully neutral expression. "Oh? And what's that, then?"

Not batting an eye, he shook his head. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Some of the neutrality wavered as those changeable eyes narrowed. "You playing hard to get, Ray?"

Despite his revelation and how serious he felt this conversation could be, Raleigh couldn't help but smirk a little at that. "Why? You chasing?"

The most reluctant grin he'd ever seen surfaced on that closed-off face. And a flash of that damn dimple. "You are such an asshole."

His smirk deepened, and he gestured toward Chuck. "Pot." Gestured at himself. "Kettle."

"Oi, fuck off."

But he'd been around Chuck enough to hear the amusement in the words. "So... why _have_ you been avoiding me?"

The levity faded, and the careful expression came back. "Honestly... because I want things to change, and you want them to stay the same."

Well, that was... cryptic. And frustrating. And maybe hopeful? Did Chuck maybe want something more than witty banter and comfortable joshing around the dinner table? Or... did he maybe want less, and just didn't know how to say it without being an asshole?

Frowning, he started to ask what exactly the cagey bastard meant by that, but... maybe Chuck wasn't being cagey on purpose. Maybe he was just being as cautious as Raleigh was.

Maybe because it meant just as much to him as it did to Raleigh.

Hell with it.

"I... want you, Chuck."

Grey eyes widened, and that taunting, tempting mouth dropped open.

Unfortunately, now that he'd made his mouth work, it didn't seem to want to stop. "I dunno if I'd have ever guessed that if not for Newt's kaiju funk, but it's kinda hard to deny it now. You haven't been around much this week and... I guess... I miss you. I don't want things to stay like this."

_Jesus, just stop talking! The hell is wrong with you?_

But he couldn't. His mouth was on autopilot. "I mean... I know it was probably just the gas making you horny and I should probably just forget about it, but I can't. I wanna see if it felt that good because of the gas or if it was you. _Us_. I wanna know what it feels like when we know what the hell we're doing. Does any of this make any sense?"

Silence. It loomed heavy and stifling around them, and he felt his nerves stretch to the breaking point as more and more seconds passed without interruption. Chuck _stared_ at him, and Raleigh had no idea how to interpret that look. What he hell had he been thinking to blurt all of that without knowing how Chuck felt first?

Just as the silence became acutely painful and Raleigh stirred to stand up and leave in disgrace, Chuck grunted. Or huffed.

"Can't believe you just blurted it out like that."

Wishing he'd made it to his feet so he wouldn't have to keep looking up at the jerk and would have an easier escape if this got ugly, Raleigh managed to keep his big, stupid mouth shut this time.

Shifting his feet, Chuck cleared his throat. "Since we're being honest, here... I should probably admit... full disclosure and all that... I knew what the hell I was doing."

It's was Raleigh's turn to jawdrop.

"Not at first, I mean." Fidget, fidget. "That was... yeah, the gas... but that last bit, there. That last time was... that was just me."

He blinked, his mind refusing to process the statement. Was this... good? It sounded like it might be good, but... God, he didn't dare get his hopes up after all that blurting.

"You... how do you know...?"

Color crept up the poor guy's neck. "Woke up without a hard-on, genius. The whole rest of the time, I stayed hard and stayed inside."

Now _his_ neck heated on a flush, and he was dismally aware that the red didn't stop there. Oh, no. He felt his whole face turn tomato on him.

"Wha--why...?"

Thankfully, Chuck seemed to understand the question. "Didn't know if it was something that had to be worked out of the system, did I? Maybe you got a higher dose, being closer to it when it went off." He scruffed a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "If I'm honest, if you'd still been there and still been hard when I woke up again, I'd have climbed on instead of... ya know. Almost did, anyway." The blush crept into his cheeks. "Just... you were laying there all fucked out and still hard as a rock and with my hickies all over you, and... I just couldn't help myself."

He had absolutely no chance of responding intelligently to any of that. Chuck had awakened with his wits about him, and instead of just walking away -- like Raleigh had, to his shame -- he had stuck around to make sure Raleigh was... taken care of.

Would have even... er... caught instead of pitched, as it were, if he'd thought it necessary. Somehow, the big, arrogant brawler didn't seem the type, but... he would have. For Raleigh.

But now, said brawler was shifting awkwardly, and Raleigh guessed he'd better think of something to say before Chuck started to regret everything _he'd_ just said.

"Damn, Chuck." Okay, that wasn't promising. "I... that may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

He wanted to smack himself on the forehead. What the hell kind of dumbass thing was that to--

Chuck snickered, then tried to stop. Blushing miserably, Raleigh winced as he looked up and met dancing grey eyes. Another snicker, and his eyes narrowed even as the corners of his mouth twitched.

And then Chuck brayed laughter so hard he had to sit down, and Raleigh was hard-put not to whack him over the head with his bo, even as a few chuckles slipped past his lingering mortification. He did poke the big jerk with the stick a few times, which only made Chuck laugh harder.

Finally, the smarmy asshole lay on his back with one arm over his eyes and one arm over his stomach, the laughter cycling down to chuckles and then to the occasional snort. Shifting his arm from his eyes to his forehead, he rolled his head to look Raleigh full-on.

"Don't reckon we'll ever be the wine and roses type, will we?"

Raleigh snorted, tempted to poke him with the bo again. Chuck just grinned, flashing dimple.

"Never had a... relationship, really. Plenty of hook-ups, but nothing serious."

His eyebrows rose. "What, like I have?"

Chuck eyed him, but Raleigh just stared back, waiting for him to catch up. Three years of jaeger pilot fame had netted him plenty of willing partners, but no girlfriend. And five plus years of mourning had netted him absolutely nothing. There might have been willing partners, but Raleigh hadn't been willing to partner them. He'd been too deep in his own head to scratch an itch he wasn't sure he'd ever feel again.

Sure enough, given a moment to reflect, Chuck caught his drift and nodded. "Guess neither of us will know if we're fucking up, then."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he shook his head. That was probably as good an invitation as he was going to get. "Probably the only thing that'll save our asses."

And _that_ was as much confirmation as _Chuck_ was going to get. Luckily, the smug bastard understood, if the smirk as he sat up and rested his forearms on his bent knees was any indication.

"You got plans tonight, Becket?"

Funny how such bright eyes could darken without losing even a hint of their glow. Raleigh barely restrained himself from biting his lower lip at the promise in those eyes, in that smirk.

"You bet your ass I do."

Damn that dimple. Damn both of those dimples. "Your room or mine?"

They were really doing this. They were really doing this?

"Do you have Max tonight?"

Chuck slowly shook his head, those fascinating eyes never losing their laser focus. Raleigh swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as a bone.

"Yours, then?"

Ginger eyebrows rose.

The blush came back a bit, and he rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he wasn't ruining the moment by being an idiot. "I... uh... still haven't told Mako."

Chuck twisted to his feet, and it just wasn't fair for such a well-muscled type to have that kind of grace. "You going to?"

It seemed to ask more than the sum of its words, but, thankfully, he didn't have to wrestle with his answer.

"Doubt I'll be able to hide it when I can't walk right tomorrow."

Aaaaand _there_ was the smug jackass he'd come to know and... well... like. Maybe more. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Chuck smirked down at him. "Is that a challenge?"

Smirking and blushing in equal measure, he shoved to his feet and rolled his shoulders like he was warming up for a fight. "All I can say is you've got a hell of an act to follow and no sex bomb to help you keep it up."

Gleaming eyes widened and that gorgeous jaw tightened. "No the fuck you didn't."

And because he could be just as big an arrogant asshole as Chuck, he only smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

Yeah. He probably deserved the shove toward the door.

 _Definitely_ the smack on the ass.


	3. The End

When Herc looked up from his tray at breakfast and saw Chuck limping awkwardly into the mess with a disgruntled, borderline pissed-off expression on his face, he sighed heavily. Unless he missed his guess, his emotionally-stunted jerk of a son had picked another fight with Becket.

It was past time for him to intervene. He'd left the pair of jackalopes to their own devices long enough, dammit. So, when the brat gingerly lowered down onto the bench seat across from him, Herc put down his fork. Before he waded in, though, he looked the kid over.

No bruises. No swelling.

Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at Chuck's hands and... no split knuckles. What the...?

"The hell's wrong with you, then?"

The kid glanced up, didn't quite meet his eyes, and... blushed? What the hell?

"Bit sore, is all. No worries."

His eyes narrowed further. "Bit sore... from what? Doesn't look like you've been in a scrap."

Chuck cleared his throat and poked at his eggs, the blush turning his neck beet red. "If you must know, old man... Raleigh's first time topping." A jerky shrug that was anything but casual. "Between that and me never... well, it's a damn good job I'm not still in bed, alright?"

Herc blinked, his mind momentarily incapable of forming coherent thought. Raleigh's... and Chuck had... they were....

"That's it? You're just gonna have a stroke without saying anything?"

His mouth worked, but no words came out yet. He'd started to think the two big idiots would both need a swift kick in the ass to get together, but... it appeared they'd just gone and done it themselves finally. Which was... good? Right?

But that Chuck had... and his mind fetched up against that boggling fact again, sending his minute progress scattering like cockroaches when the lights come on.

"Oi, Dad, you're starting to worry me."

He blinked, then shook his head, then looked at his son, who was no longer avoiding his gaze. Chuck looked back, still blushing a little but more concerned and wary than embarrassed now.

"So... you and Becket...? And you... let him...?"

Ginger eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "I didn't _let_ him, dammit. It just... he was sore from the first couple of go-'rounds, and we sure as hell weren't done yet, so--"

Herc's eyes popped wide. "First _couple?_ "

Thankfully, the brat smirked, and the potential for anger passed under the opportunity to make ol' Dad twitch and stutter. Always Chuck's favorite pastime.

"What can I say, old man? We're young and strong and the bastard can't get enough of me."

His mind flashed back to Newt casually talking about their supposed virility and how they could probably go all night, and he clenched his eyes shut and shuddered. God help him.

"So yeah, when I'd already pounded him so hard he couldn't take another round, I figured it was only gentlemanly to... take one for the team, as it were." A deep, wicked chuckle. "Or more than one, as it happens."

Herc put up a hand, not opening his eyes. "More than enough, thanks."

"You don't wanna hear about the shower sex a bit later on? Turns out Raleigh is bendy. And I mean _bendy_. Fucker can get his legs--"

_"Chuck!!"_

The little bastard subsided with a smug smirk, tearing into his breakfast with vigor. Herc waited for a comment about needing his strength for another all-nighter, but the worst of the taunting seemed to have passed. He looked down at his own food and wondered if he would ever eat again without pondering exactly how Raleigh Becket could get his legs wherever qualified as bendy.

He shuddered and shoved his tray away.

"Oi, Ray! There you are, mate!"

Great. Just great. Hopefully, the slightly older and more seasoned ranger would be blushy and awkward so they wouldn't have to talk about it anymore. If embarrassing Herc was Chuck's favorite pastime, mortifying two for the price of one would have to be the little asshole's Everest.

Soon enough, Becket plunked his tray down next to Chuck's, and Herc wanted to groan in advance. The kid was _glowing_ , for the love of God, his eyes the color of a midmorning autumn sky and his grin measurable only in kilowatts per meter squared.

Luckily, while Chuck couldn't hide his grin, he also couldn't help but narrow his eyes. "Moving about awful easy there, mate. You got some secret you're not sharing with me?"

Herc's face and neck were starting to sweat. Damn fair skin. He always had blushed too damn easy.

Becket's grin only increased to roughly twice as bright as the sun. "Mind over matter." He winked. Honest to God _winked_. "Plus, I'm getting used to it."

Chuck snorted. "Good, because you're gonna be getting most of the practice."

Pale eyebrows shot up. "Says you. I didn't hear you complaining last night. Begging a lot, but not complaining."

"Oi, you're asking for it now--"

The brats bickered with absolutely no malice, and Herc could only stare, astonished. The past two weeks had been almost amusing, watching the pair pace around each other like lions debating between a fight and a fuck, but... there they sat. Side by side. Snarking at each other about their sudden sex life as if they were already comfortable with it and with each other.

While Raleigh stole bacon off Chuck's tray and Chuck snaked Raleigh's last waffle.

And then, it got _worse_.

"Hey! It's about time I caught you two together. I got a proposition for ya."

Just what this morning needed. A mad scientist hellbent on driving Herc completely insane.

Raleigh grunted, and Herc could only assume Chuck had kicked him under the table. "Hear that, Ray? Newt's propositioning you."

He shot a glance at Becket only to see the kid looking up at Newt with the same stone-faced, eyebrow-raised impatience he'd used on Chuck the first time the brats had met in this same mess hall. It worked a helluva lot better on Newt than it had on the stubborn bastard Herc called a son.

"Er... I mean... just thought since... hey, would you two like to field test my latest batch of Sexcretion?"

Two forks and Herc's jaw dropped.

Chuck recovered first. "Have you lost your goddamn mind? We're not fucking lab rats!"

Raleigh recovered second and... smirked? "You gotta admit, Chuck. The last time worked out pretty damn well for us."

Chuck... apparently had no argument for that and went back to prodding at his scrambled eggs.

Herc recovered dead last and shook his head. "Sexcretion? For the love of God, Geiszler, what the fuck have you done now?"

The little chihuahua started gesticulating. "I took the basic formula from my sex bomb, upped the potency, and switched over to pill form."

He frowned. "Exactly what good is a biological weapon in pill form?"

"Yeah, we kinda moved away from the whole biological weapon thing. Once Chau found out how my sex bomb worked, he realized he'd make a helluva lot more money marketing it as a top-flight kaiju Viagra-type sexual aid."

Herc stared, incapable of speech.

"Not for treating erectile dysfunction, of course, but to create a unique, long-lasting sexual tyrannosaurus kind of experience. People will pay approximately all the money for it. Makes black arms biological weaponry look like penny candy from the corner store."

Becket covered his mouth, likely to hide a smirk, while Chuck rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. Herc... still couldn't think of a damn thing to say in response.

"So I can count on you two to be my test pilots, right? I mean, not that you need it or anything. Just... you're the only couple who knows what Chau and I are trying to do, and it wouldn't be ethical to try it out on people who aren't aware of the situation."

Chuck tossed down his fork and scoffed, incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Raleigh eyed Geiszler with a cross between amusement and irritation. "How'd you know we were a couple? I mean... just since last night?"

The mad doctor's eyes widened. "Seriously? Last night?" He blinked and shoved his glasses up his nose. "You two have been making eyes at each other since the sex bomb. Just thought... damn. You guys really are stubborn."

Finally, _finally_ , Herc made his mouth work. "All of which is besides the point. You are not, and I repeat... _not_... experimenting on my rangers, Geiszler!"

Newt launched into frenzied explanations about how the pill was perfectly safe and blah blah blah, but Herc suddenly found his attention focused on the two clownshoes sitting opposite him. Raleigh looked at Chuck and raised his eyebrows. Chuck narrowed his eyes, then rolled them and sighed.

Uh-oh.

"We're in." Raleigh held up a hand before Newt could go into ecstasies. "Give us a day to... er... rest up."

Chuck shifted and winced. "Two."

"Done."

Herc grunted. "Not done. You two can't be serious."

Smirking, Chuck leaned across the table and whispered loudly, defeating the entire purpose of whispering and leaning close. "Don't worry, old man. This time, we have lube."

"Dammit, Chuck--"

"Can I talk you into bringing Miss Mori along?"

Dead silence as three sets of eyes lasered in on the good doctor.

"...Is that a problem?"

All trace of amusement gone, Becket glared up at Newt. "She's like my sister."

Chuck, equally humorless now, also glared. "And I don't share."

"But I need to know how it affects a woman! Surely we can work something--"

_"NEWT!"_

The little bastard finally paled at their combined shout. "All right, all right! Geez." The dumbass wandered off, gesticulating as he muttered to himself about inexplicable restrictions on his research parameters and how to overcome them in a fascist dictatorship.

Shaking his head, Herc stared after him, appalled. "Unbelievable."

"You don't share, huh?"

He glanced back to see Raleigh grinning -- _fondly_ \-- at Chuck. What'd he miss?

"That's the second nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Oh, God. Were they getting sappy over there? Herc wasn't sure he could handle that after Newt's debacle.

Thankfully, Chuck only snorted. "I said it to Newt."

But Becket was unperturbed. "About me, then."

The brat grunted, then shrugged. "Whatever, Ray. Your ass is mine. Take it however you like."

The grin twisted into a smirk. "With pleasure."

Herc covered his ears. "Stop. Seriously. It's just getting weird now."

The brats snickered and elbowed each other for a moment before Raleigh straightened and waved. "Mako!"

Oh, thank God. At least he could count on Miss Mori to act like an adult in a room full of children.

So of course as soon as she sat down next to him, she reached across the table and punched Becket in the shoulder.

"Ow! Hey, what was that for?"

She settled quietly into her seat, composed as ever. "Two weeks, Raleigh Becket."

Stuck between a grin and a frown as he rubbed his wounded arm, the kid eyed her. "Two weeks what?"

"Two weeks and you never thought to tell me about you and Chuck and Dr. Geiszler's sex bomb." Those cool, dark eyes speared the kid. "Ring any bells?"

Chuck snickered. "You're in the shit now, pretty boy."

Those dark eyes turned to the brat, cutting off the snicker. "I don't see anything wrong with your ability to speak, Chuck Hansen."

Herc bit his tongue and tried desperately to hide a smirk as his son went from smirking to chastened and not happy about it.

"Oi, when did you find out, then?"

"I knew all along."

Even Herc had to eye her with surprise, but Miss Mori was never one to wilt under scrutiny. She merely eyed each brat in turn, then gave Herc a small, respectful smile.

"I answered the emergency cut-off on the other side."

Raleigh's eyes widened as a blush crept up his neck. "You were _watching??"_

For the first time in his entire acquaintance with Mako Mori, Herc had the distinct and visceral pleasure of watching her flail and blush.

"Of course not!" She shifted, and Becket howled even as he laughed and jerked down to rub his abused shin. "I saw Dr. Geiszler covering the window and asked what was happening!"

"Thank God."

Mercifully enough, all the brats settled down enough to actually bother with breakfast, and Herc took a moment to glance around at the children he'd somehow become surrounded by. Not a one of them had even touched their thirties yet, but they'd somehow saved the world and, should the kaiju come back, would probably do it again. They were a bunch of kids elbowing each other and snickering and cracking wise.

 _His_ kids. His... family.

Grinning as a feeling of rightness settled into his chest, he watched Mako and Raleigh talk and smile just as if they hadn't lost their loved ones and damn near their own lives. He watched Chuck shift just so until Becket shot him a little grin, then realized they'd just hooked ankles under the table. It wasn't showy, wasn't making mooney eyes, wasn't hickies and giggles and cuddling. It was a small gesture, just for them.

He watched as Chuck looked up from laughing at Mori's story of the first time they'd met, oh, so many years ago and how Chuck had ended up facedown on the floor with a pint-size Mako's knee in his back. As his son grinned at him, that damned dimple making him look almost as young and carefree as he'd been in the story.

And suddenly, it hit him.

"Kids?"

Chuck's carefree amusement turned into a raised ginger eyebrow. Raleigh looked like he'd been caught slipping Ex-lax into the teacher's coffee. Mako looked... sweetly amused to be thought of as a kid.

"The hell, old man?"

Frowning, Herc ducked under the table, noting that, yes, Chuck had locked ankles with Raleigh, but not seeing what he suddenly desperately needed to see.

Paling, he sat up straight and eyed each in turn.

"Where's Max?"

There was silence for all of three seconds. Then, all hell broke loose.

"Oi, Ray! He follows you about. Where the hell did you see him last?"

"He doesn't follow me around! I haven't seen him since yesterday!"

"Tendo, have you seen Max on the screens this morning? He seems to be missing, and the marshal is concerned."

"Seriously, mate, where's my dog?"

The babble continued, but Herc could only sit back and watch, strangely... content. Yes, Max was probably getting into some shit that may or may not end in further shenanigans, but this?

"Chuck, for the love of God, I am not poaching your dog!"

This was home.

And like some movie or another once said, there's no place like home.

"Did you or did you not spend an entire Star Trek episode rubbing his belly? And you think that's not poaching? Dammit, Ray, this is all your fault!"

Grinning, Herc watched the chaos with pure and simple happiness.

Goddamn right.


End file.
